


He's In His House (And I'm In His Basement)

by Azkaabanter



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst with a happy ending?, Betrayal, Depressed Tommy, Family, Frostbite, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Loosely Follows Canon, Manipulation, Phil is such a good dad, Physical Abuse, Protective Techno, Rehabilitation, Self amputation, Suicidal Thoughts, Techno is gonna murder green boy, Whump, finally Tommy gets help, prosthetic leg, sbi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:34:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28146189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azkaabanter/pseuds/Azkaabanter
Summary: Tommy didn't exactly think his "escape" from Logsteadshire through very well. He had basically no supplies, no food, was injured, and had to trek through the freezing cold and snow to have just a shred of a chance of revenge. It was looking pretty bleak for him as his head swam and his legs threatened to give out- good thing his older brother was exiled close enough to be a refuge.--Basically Tommy refuses to give up on himself, and then ends up almost dying in Technoblade's basement. At least he's out of the snow, though.
Relationships: Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 192
Kudos: 2435
Collections: Found family to make me feel something, MCYT Fic Rec, mcyt favorites





	1. Frozen

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! I wrote this at 1:30 am woo just got admitted to my third college! This is me procrastinating on my WIPs, enjoy!!! (I know this isn't cannon anymore I just really like this premise)

So much more of the land surrounding the Dream SMP and L’Manberg was cold and snowy than Tommy had previously thought. In his suicidal delirium and subsequent burst of rebellion against Dream, he hadn’t exactly… considered much.

Basically, he had no plan.

All he knew was that he needed to get his discs back, and he needed to get revenge on Dream. That was what he needed, and those things were far more important than extracting the shrapnel from his skin, or treating third degree burns which covered much of his exposed skin from the explosions, or the contusions brought on by skeleton’s arrows or Dream’s own sword and fists. He had priorities, you see, and he was so set on those that he didn’t notice himself wasting away into skin and bones.

The further Tommy got from the ruins of Logstedshire, the colder it became. In his weak state and ragged clothing and barely usable armor, endless shivers wracked through him, the wind pushing him around as if his body weighed no more than a feather. He was missing a sneaker, and that became a very, _very_ big problem when the rain pelting down turned from water to sleet to heavy snow, and the buildup on the ground grew so deep it reached mid calf and Tommy couldn’t feel his foot anymore. 

Still he trudged on, thin arms wrapped around himself and vision occasionally going dark around the edges. The night was obviously forthcoming as he trudged through snow onto an ice covered lake.

There was a crack, a loud one, as the new ice adjusted to Tommy’s slight weight. He paused then, looking down at his feet while the wind howled and whipped his greasy blonde hair around with ease.

‘ _You could fall through, you know.’_ A voice sounded in the back of his head. _‘You could fall through and let the water hold you. It would be comfortable, and soft; so much more peaceful than jumping would have been.’_ The voice was tempting, _oh so_ tempting. Blue eyes were locked on the ice, and subsequently the water beneath it. He was just so cold, and so _alone_. 

He hadn’t been thinking clearly when he left.

The ice continued to groan as he shifted his weight from foot to foot, testing the strength and revelling in the unsteady noises. Tommy closed his eyes, his head pounding. Somehow in that moment he could feel every cut, every bruise, every stab of pain when he inhaled, and the low ache each breath left behind. He could feel the fading handprint Dream had left on his cheek.

Maybe if he went back, if he rebuilt, Dream would forgive him. Maybe he would decide that he’d been too rash with Tommy.

Those same eyes opened once again, though the edges of his vision were fuzzy and black with pain and exhaustion.

_‘You don’t deserve Dream.’_ The voice returned. It was soothing and warm; relaxing despite the message it was conveying. _‘He did everything for you, and you repay him by running away? After he took precious time to stay with you and keep you safe? If you just fall through the ice, Tommy, everyone would be so much better off, especially Dream. You made him mad, and now he’s gonna have to come find you. Look what you’ve done.’_

“No.” Tommy muttered aloud to himself, forcing his frozen and aching legs to continue on their journey. “Dream isn’t my friend.” He spoke to the air, trying to keep his brain in the right state. “Dream is trying to control me.” The pond was behind him, the only thing ahead was more forest and more snow and more of that endless night.

There were several points over the night and the next day where Tommy seriously considered lying down in the snow and just letting the flurries bury him. But he didn’t. He trudged on and on, his throat burning in a desperate plea for water and his stomach growling in dire need of food. He wasn’t stupid: Tommy knew that if he stopped, he would never be able to get back up, so on he went.

Several thoughts crossed his mind on the journey, most of them concerning Tubbo. 

Tommy’s compass had been safely stored in his enderchest, so he knew that the precious item remained undamaged in the explosion. It was a relief to know, even if just days before he’d been seconds away from chucking it into the Nether’s endless sea of lava. Dream had stopped him from doing that…

And then promptly slapped him across the face for something else hours later.

He tucked his hands into his armpits in a desperate attempt to stave off the frostbite: his left foot was probably far beyond saving. His breaths were coming out in short, pained bursts that barely satiated his lungs. God, it took five minutes for him to walk ten feet.

He was dying, he realized.

A small whimper escaped chapped lips as Tommy squeezed his eyes closed, somehow a tear managing to form despite the dehydration. Who was he kidding? He couldn’t face Dream, there was no way in hell. The guy was basically a god; who was Tommy to face God? 

After a few moments of shaking in silence with his legs on the brink of giving out, Tommy allowed himself to look out onto the terrain again. 

Not much had changed from the night before; he hadn’t been particularly observant for the past few hours since the majority of his energy was dedicated to forcing his legs to keep moving and block out the extensive pain and exhaustion coursing through his body. Now that he was stopped though, he realized something; not too far away there was what seemed to be a steady plume of smoke.

Tommy’s heart rate instantly picked up in excitement and hope, following the trail down to make out the shape of a house in the distance. 

Suddenly, Tommy was inhuman. 

In his head he was sprinting towards that house, towards salvation, but in reality he was stumbling blindly, completely delirious from pain and sickness of both the mind and body towards that tiny distant cottage. His limbs were ice and his head was being smashed with a rock but eventually, after hours of hobbling through knee-deep snow drifts and babbling to himself about mushroom stew, Tommy reached the house.

It was quaint; concrete walls and a spruce or dark oak roof (Tommy didn’t know and didn’t care), and a small stable by the door that contained a decorated horse grazing casually on hay. Tommy grinned at the horse, limping forward on his unusable left foot and barely working right to pet the animal softly on the muzzle. He pointedly missed the fact that his arm was almost completely skin and bone.

“Hey there, you wouldn’t happen to know if any women live here, would you?” Tommy asked. The horse, as expected, did not reply and continued to stare at him blankly. Tommy dropped his hand and shrugged, making his way to the cottage’s door. “Not a big talker? Alright, I see how it is.” Once again there was no response, other than maybe an exasperated whinny. “Bitch.” Tommy whispered under his breath, pulling open the door, the thought of the house’s owner not even crossing his addled brain.

The warmth that rushed out into the winter day almost shocked the freezing teenager into stepping back, but instead he immediately leaned into it. He was frozen almost solid, with the tips of his fingers beginning to harden and numb- Tommy had no desire to look down at his exposed foot, not until he could sit down and treat it. Inside was small, but in a cozy way. A fire roared in a small hearth that had a cooking grate over top, and chests lined one of the walls along with furnaces and crafting tables.

Immediately Tommy made a beeline for the chests, wrenching the one nearest to him open and letting out a sigh of relief when he saw an array of different potions and weapons. Without another thought he uncorked a pink potion that he believed was healing and drank the whole thing in three gulps, the magic quickly beginning to spread a bit of warmth through his veins. It did little to quench his thirst however, so he moved on to the next chest, and the next, and the one after that.

Soon enough Tommy’s arms and pockets were full of valuables, their owner not even crossing his mind. Golden apples and diamond armor and crossbows and-

He paused, the smile dropping from his face when he pulled back from the final chest to actually take in the details of his surroundings.

On the wall was a Pogtopia poster… and nearby there were more, decorating the wood with war propaganda.

Tommy’s heart about stopped, his cheek burning where Dream’s hand mark was. 

_“You think you can hide things from me? You think you can take advantage of my kindness like this?!”_ Dream had yelled that at him; the ever calm and cryptic man exploding in rage after finding his stupid stash of secret chests. That was when he’d cut Tommy’s side, the magic imbued in his sword causing the pain from the wound to be ten times worse than it normally would be.

Tommy could imagine Techno, the obvious owner of this cabin, doing the same thing to him.

Except Techno wouldn’t show mercy.

‘ _Maybe you want it that way.’_

Tommy kneeled down, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyesockets until he saw bursts of color and his ears started to ring. He _hated_ Techno. His older brother had betrayed him and helped their other brother destroy L’Manberg. He couldn’t just… excuse that.

A frown set on his lips.

Well it would be payback, wouldn’t it? Stay in his house out of sight until he was healed and able to travel. Steal his shit, make him pay in little ways, and then after Tommy defeated Dream he could come back and _really_ make Techno suffer. It was a perfect plan.

He just needed somewhere to hide.

Nearby there was a ladder which Tommy descended with quite a bit of difficulty. He felt faint and oh so weak, but down he clambered into a room containing a few zombie villagers. He let out an annoyed breath, then looked at the stone bricks beneath his feet, a snarky smile breaking out on his lips.

_‘Like a goddamn raccoon.’_

From his belt Tommy produced a stolen pickaxe from upstairs and began to dig right below himself, a small shriek of surprise followed quickly by a gasp of pain following when he fell through the floor and into a room which contained… a cow.

“Not Henry.” He hissed out. It was kind of his brand to deal with pain by using comedy. Usually it worked, but… well he couldn’t feel his left leg and was pretty sure that some of his wounds were reopening.

He couldn’t afford to drip blood on the floor.

Tommy hefted the pickaxe up again, arms shaking violently and stomach rolling with new nausea, and began to dig.

He went straight down for a few feet before fashioning out a crude cave. It was cold and messy and damp, but at least he’d have access to Techno’s supplies and he’d be out of the elements; that was a win in his book. 

Tommy was completely and utterly exhausted by the time he’d fashioned a crude chest and placed his stolen items inside. Before coming down he’d reluctantly put most of the valuables back- Techno may have been an asswipe but he wasn’t stupid, and would definitely notice a stack of golden apples and pieces of amor missing. He took some simple food, a fair amount of blankets, and some first aid supplies. The necessities.

Now those blankets were thrown into a pile on the floor or wrapped around a malnourished and shaking teenager, his eyes shut tight as he tried to force himself to finally look at his foot. It was bad; he knew it was bad because he couldn’t move it. He couldn’t feel it- there was just a weight attached to him from about the knee down, like some sort of parasite.

_‘You’re weak, Tommy. You’re nothing without me.’_ Dream’s voice and laughter echoed in his brain, and that was what forced his eyes open.

“Oh my… fuck…” The words slipped out of Tommy’s mouth without permission, the rolling in his stomach becoming an unstoppable urge to vomit that the teenager didn’t ignore. He leaned to the side and emptied the bile from his stomach, the acid stinging his already raw throat and bringing small tears to his eyes. He then proceeded to cough violently, the wound on his chest throbbing painfully with each hack. He felt like death: there was no better way to put it. Maybe death would be the better option at that point.

There was no other way to describe the sight in front of and attached to Tommy other than to say that his leg was rotting, the limb black and bloated below the knee. It was fucking disgusting, and even after emptying his stomach mere moments prior, he was feeling the urge to do so again. 

He closed his eyes again, thoughts moving at a rapid pace. What the hell could he do? There was no saving it- not even a healing potion could bring dead tissue back to life. And what if it spread? What if it got worse?

Tommy’s brain was overloaded and tired and he didn’t have the energy, the time, or frankly the care to think of other options. He was locked on.

“Alright, big man. Just… think of it as chopping a log. The prime log.” He spoke to himself, swallowing harshly as he took the axe from his tool pile, the diamond blade expertly sharpened in only the way Techno could do it. Tommy looked to his thigh, unable to get his eyes to lock onto the rotting blackness. Who needed a knee? Certainly not him. 

His pant leg was already torn away almost fully, his badly damaged Netherite leggings having already been discarded. He couldn’t be a pussy about it. He wasn’t going to be weak. He was going to prove Dream wrong.

Before he could think about it any longer, Tommy lined up the axe as best he could with one hand, shut his eyes, and swung downwards.

Instantly he almost blacked out from the pain as he gasped for air, ears ringing and arms shaking. The job wasn’t done: he’d gotten through the bone though, at least he hoped he did. One more would be enough. Just one more. 

With the last of his strength he drove the axe back into the severed flesh, the sound of cracking bone and tearing flesh being the orchestra in Tommy’s symphony of screams. The limb was finally severed, and in an adrenaline- fuelled rush he pulled out a healing potion and downed it, then quickly took an unsterilized needle and thread to painstakingly stitch together what he could, and wrap the stub of his thigh in rich white gause. 

“F-fuck.” Tommy whimpered out, tears rushing down his cheeks as he sat in what looked like a murder scene, blood covering the floor as well as some of the blankets he’d stolen and brought down. The rest of his wounds would have to go untreated that night as the teenager pushed his frostbitten leg away weakly and buried himself in the bloody stolen blankets, his mind too in shock to understand what he’d just done, and understand that the pain he felt all over his body was the only thing that tied him to humanity.

As Tommy drifted off, Dream’s and Techno’s voices mixed in his head, neither of them being on his side.

Those delirious thoughts continued for days, his body not allowing him to fully slip out of unconsciousness. He was trapped in a dream like state, a combination of trauma, blood-loss, and malnutrition rendering him basically a corpse. He shouldn’t have been alive, not in his state. Yet he was, and he was suffering.

_‘It’s not your time to die, Tommy.’_ Dream had said a while ago. Tommy wouldn’t have been freezing and bleeding to death in his traitor brother’s basement if he’d just jumped that day. It would’ve been so easy if he’d jumped off that pillar in Logsteadshire, too. Why had he thought that he could somehow be a hero?

It soon became obvious that using an unsterilized needle and thread to stitch his thigh back together had been a bad idea when infection began to set in.

_‘Gangrene,’_ Tommy’s loopy head told him. It was worsening quickly. He wouldn’t have the strength to cut off his leg anymore. He’d run out of stolen food and there was no way in hell that Tommy could climb those ladders. So he’d just rot down there, in Techno’s basement. Yup.

“Did you leave one of the chests open before we left?” It had been maybe a week, possibly two before Tommy heard voices. His heart instantly stopped, even in his state he knew that _voices equalled bad_. Voices meant Techno. Voices meant more pain. 

Voices maybe meant he’d be put out of his misery.

“I don’t know, we left like a month ago.” Phil? Tommy’s brain was swimming. Why was Phil on Techno’s side? Why hadn’t he helped Tommy?

It was hard to hear through stone and wood floors, but the sound of Techno’s heavy boots on the ground shook the entire house threateningly.

“There are potions missing.” Tommy started hyperventilating a bit, his chest aching where Dream’s sword had cut him. 

“Are you sure we didn’t just pack them?” There was the distinct sound of a chest creaking, then slamming shut. 

“A Netherite pick is gone. And a diamond axe. Someone has been here.” Oh God. Oh fucking fuck. Footsteps disappeared for a moment before coming back, sounding much nearer. Tommy cowered into his dirty blankets: they’d come down a floor.

“Techno, I think you might just be paranoid-”

“I’m not paranoid, Dad!” Techno snapped. Tommy’s brow furrowed. Who was _he_ to be mean to Dad? Fucking traitorous asshole. “Look, this brick has a crack in it.” 

No, no, no, no.

He couldn’t move. Tommy couldn’t _move_.

There was the sound of a pickaxe and feet dropping down, and the teenager knew that his Dad and brother were right on top of him. He was dead, he was fucked.

Somehow, that was a comforting thought.

“It’s hollow.” Techno’s voice rumbled from above. It was over. 

Tommy closed his eyes as he heard the pickaxe begin to break through the stone above him. 

He’d tried his best, and now he was going to die to his older brother without getting the chance to exact his revenge on Dream, or even see Tubbo again. That was it, the end of his story. He found himself welcoming it.

“I- what the fuck?” Tommy didn’t open his eyes. He was too tired, it was too much work. He was cold- why waste the energy on moving his eyelids when he could just lay there? “PHIL!” Tommy scrunched up his nose a bit at the high volume making his head hurt worse. So rude. “Tommy?” Techno’s voice was gruff, but still soft; almost disgustingly so.

“TOMMY?!” Phil’s voice was loud again, and horrified. 

It also happened to be the last thing he heard before his limp body was lifted into strong arms, his missing limb was noticed with a shout and a cry, and his mind turned blank.

\--

The next time Tommy awoke, he was warm. It was a strange feeling, one that was foreign but definitely not unwelcome. It took a lot to wrench open heavy eyelids but eventually he succeeded, and promptly shut them again. It was bright, wherever the hell he was.

It wasn’t his cave.

Tommy let out a light groan, his mouth feeling like it was full of cotton, and his limbs buzzing with some sort of energy.

Well, his remaining limbs.

Memories of his time in the cave assaulted the teenager, his breath picking up as he recalled chopping off his own leg; he remembered the blood, the gore, fuck, the _sounds_.

“Tommy?” A voice called from nearby and the teenager turned his head towards it, unable to move any other limbs. Soon Philza was by his side, face alight with stress and worry, eyebags darker than Tommy had ever seen them. “Breathe, Tommy. It’s okay, you’re okay.” Phil reassured, grabbing his son’s hand and squeezing it comfortingly while the boy next to him proceeded to hyperventilate.

“P-Phil?” Tommy choked out, blue eyes wide and tear filled.

“I’ve got you, Toms.” A gentle hand caressed the young man’s face, pausing momentarily over the fading handprint on his cheek. “You’re safe now.”

Tommy continued to cry and have trouble for a while longer, but soon was able to calm down enough to speak to Phil. It had been so _long_ since he’d seen his father. He’d missed him so much.

“We fixed you up as best we could.” Phil explained. “You’ve been out for a week and a half, gave your brother and I a nasty scare.” Tommy’s face fell at the mention of Techno. His brother who was probably going to kill him for being a dirty little thief.

“I’m sorry.” He muttered.

“It’s okay, you haven’t done anything wrong.” Phil soothed. Tommy tensed at the sound of footsteps approaching the small room he resided in, its only contents being a bed, two chairs, and a small dresser. “Techno, he’s awake.” Phil said softly towards the door.

Technoblade was a tall man. He had long pink hair done in a messy french braid, and small tusks protruding between his upper and lower lips. Phil thought that he was a quarter piglin, but it was hard to tell. He was stoic, and strong, and was afraid of nothing. He’d stop at nothing to get what he wanted, and Tommy knew that he wanted his younger brother dead, just like Dream did.

“Hey, Tom-” 

“I-I’m so sorry.” Tommy started. For some reason now that Phil was next to his bed, holding his hand, he decided that it was time to have some self preservation. Techno stopped in his tracks, looking at his little brother’s terrified face. “I’ll return everything, I’ll work it off, you can destroy my armor and kill me, just _please_ don’t make it hurt.” The teenager curled in on himself as much as he could in his injured state, waiting for the inevitable blow to come, but it never did. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Techno asked. Tommy cracked open an eye warily, seeing that the only thing on his brother’s face was concern and mild annoyance. There was no malice to be found. 

“You’re… you’re not gonna kill me?”

“Why the fuck would I kill you?” Tommy paused, looking between his brother and his father, dazed. 

“Dream said if I disobeyed him, I’d be punished.” He whispered. “There’s not much more you guys can do to me other than kill me.” The room was filled with a heavy silence for a few moments.

“What the hell did Dream do to you?” Phil asked, his voice low in anger. This startled Tommy- his Dad wasn’t one to anger easily. Usually he was the guy to talk things out, to de-escalate. 

“Did that motherfucker cut off your leg?” Techno yelled. Tommy flinched back, away from the sound. He couldn’t handle it.

“No, no he would never.” Tommy defended. _Why was he defending Dream?_ “I did it, I got frostbite. Not that anyone would notice since you only visited me to mock me-” He pointed at Techno, who still looked like he was going to commit murder. “-and you never visited.” Tommy’s voice broke, his father’s gaze sad and regretful.

“He would never?” Phil asked. Tommy nodded, the motion bringing back that pounding headache. “Then what’s this?” His hand grazed his son’s cheek again gently, the kid leaning into the gentle touch like an animal who hadn’t been handled in a long time.

“It was my fault, I disobeyed him.”

“So he hit you?”

“...yes.” Techno’s eyes narrowed into slits.

“I’m going to tear that green motherfucker limb from limb.” He said, then promptly turned on his heel and walked out the door. Phil moved to follow, but Tommy tightening his grip on his Dad’s hand stopped the man in his tracks.

“Don’t leave me.” Tommy said softly. Phil looked onto his son, a nervous shadow of his former self. Skinny, shaking, and missing a whole goddamn _limb_. This was not the boy he’d raised, not the boy who had helped save L’Manberg months ago.

And it was Dream’s fault. Eventually Phil would get the whole story out of Tommy, but for now, the boy needed rest. He needed reassurance, and God, he needed _help_.

“He’ll pay, Toms.” Phil said as Tommy began to nod off once again, the healing process taking most of his limited energy. The older man carded his fingers gently through dirty, knotty hair, taking in the fact that his son was still alive, despite the bullshit that Dream had been spreading around. 

He’d be safe, no matter what.


	2. That’s What’s Meant to Be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My inability to write a one shot has come to bite me in the ass so here I bring you chapter two of what is now a three-shot woo. Enjooooy

Phil stared at his sleeping son, lying there in a massive puddle of blankets and furs. Even in rest he shook, body poised to fight. Every second he stared, the more guilt weighed on his shoulders. 

In a way, was this his fault? Was it his fault that Tommy had lost his leg, or been terribly burned, or beaten and manipulated by a sadistic tyrant?

_Yes,_ he thought. 

Techno was downstairs still; Phil could hear him rooting around in chests for supplies, mind completely set on murdering Dream in the most painful ways possible until he’d burned out his last life. God, did it hurt to see his sons like this: one dead, one half dead, and one about to kill. He’d been a good father, he loved his sons more with every breath they took, every laugh that exited their lips. Phil still had some blue in his pocket from the last time he’d seen Ghostbur- he didn’t even know how long it had been since they’d spoken.

Carefully, Phil pulled some of the blankets away from the stub of Tommy’s leg, biting back a whimper at what lay in front of him. The wound already looked much better than it had the week before, but was still slightly inflamed: Phil was just glad he had any leg left at all.

It had been a hard save; Techno had been on the cusp of amputating further up so that the healing process would be easier on his little brother, but Phil insisted that there had to be a way to save what was left. The skin was festering and rotting, the messy stitches beginning to be healed over by the skin, creating raised red and brown pockets of a putrid smelling pus. After the thread was cut away, it had been clear to see that the hack job Tommy had performed might have ended up taking his life if his family didn’t find him when they did. The bone was splintered awkwardly and secreting fluid that definitely wasn’t blood, and during the entire cleanup process, Tommy didn’t do so much as flinch.

Phil had cried over the prone body laying on the kitchen table in a pool of his own blood and pus as Techno worked tirelessly to save his younger brother, wiping tears from his eye with his shoulder while stitching the mutilated stump of Tommy’s leg closed again. One of them insisted hysterically that he was dead, for good this time, while the other insisted that they couldn’t give up on the kid. 

As usual, Techno had been right.

Tommy had stabilized eventually, his breathing and heart rate constant, as well as constant reminders that Phil had another chance to make things right. His skin was beginning to regain color, especially after Phil gently bathed him to get all of the dirt, blood, and sweat residue off of his body. He was just so, so frail. Skin and bones with a fever and burns and a bruise on his cheek. Phil had taken over care of the minor wounds, insisting that Techno go outside for some fresh air after working so hard on the boy’s leg. The man had been seething, but not at Tommy: it seemed he already had an idea of who had caused all this pain to the youngest member of the family. Phil did too.

The next week and a half or so after the initial discovery of their little raccoon boy had been spent by both of the cabin’s occupants either at Tommy’s bedside in case he woke up, or out on short hunting trips or reconnaissance missions. Phil had left to visit L’Manberg three days after the operation to get supplies for a project he’d been working on for when Tommy woke up. Most of what he needed could be found in the cabin or the surrounding areas, but there was one thing he needed that he couldn’t get anywhere else, so off he went, with strict instructions for Techno to _not leave under any circumstances._ It would only be a day or so.

Most of the small country of L’Manberg regarded Phil as a loyal citizen, a friend and confidant. It was hard for him to walk through the streets, smiling and waving to these people who he cared for and who cared for _Tommy,_ and not be able to tell them how he was doing. Anyone could be spying, anyone could hurt them. Phil was never going to let anyone hurt his sons ever again.

Something was off though, as he walked through the wooden paths. The mood was somber and cold, the smiles he was getting seeming almost pitiful. He glanced around confusedly, not capturing the eyes of any of the people wandering around.

“Haven’t you heard?” A voice from behind Phil made him jump and whip around, coming face to face with a man in a porcelain smiley-face mask, dirty blonde hair peeking out from under the hood of a dark green hunter’s cloak. On the edge of that white mask was a crack, inlaid with red. Phil narrowed his eyes.

That bit of red hadn’t been there before Tommy’s exile.

“Heard what?” He asked, trying to keep his voice even. Dream made a small noise and leaned on a nearby log pillar casually, crossing lithe arms over his chest.

“I mean surely you know: Tubbo’s devastated. You live in that house, don’t you?” Dream pointed to Phil’s official home, not knowing that the bed had never once been slept in, and all of the items littering the chests were either stolen or trash. Phil’s eye twitched.

“I’ve been away for a while.” He said, keeping his tone steady even after his heart started racing at the mention of Tubbo.

“Ah.” Silence for a few tense moments, a bit of wind ruffling Phil’s hair as well as the feathers on his wings. The cold was finally reaching L’Manberg, the winter nearing quickly. “I’m gonna be straight with you.” Dream said. There was a certain smugness in his voice; the kind of smugness that even a kindhearted man like Phil couldn’t help but want to punch the person providing it. “Tommy’s dead.” 

“I-” He had to think, he had to make this reaction convincing. “You’re lying.” He said. He tried to pull up all of the emotions he’d felt while Tommy was dying on that kitchen table and relive those awful seconds.

“I’m not lying, I’m so sorry Phil.” Dream’s voice was empty of compassion. “Tubbo found the tower he jumped off of, and his camp destroyed. There was even blood on the ground-”

_‘Bullshit.’_ Phil thought, but still he sunk to his knees, bringing hands to cover his mouth. Flashes of Tommy in the hole whipped through his mind- thoughts of his blood puddling on the floor, memories of Techno screaming at him to pull himself together, to do it for _Tommy_ enveloped him in their hold, bringing a stream of tears and shaky breaths to the older man.

“You’re LYING!” He yelled, capturing the attention of people nearby. Soon himself and Dream were surrounded by worried friends; Quackity and Fundy and Niki, all of them whispering condolences and assuring him that things would be okay. Cold arms wrapped around Phil as he continued to cry, the sharp scents of pine and metal overtaking his nose. Instantly he tensed in those arms, hating their feeling.

“He loved you, Phil.” Dream’s words filled his ears and invaded his head. The wood of the walkway creaked under their boots, a stray raindrop hitting Phil’s forehead. “I tried my best to keep him safe, I promise I did.” Phil wanted to kill him. Wanted to rip his throat out, wanted to watch him basically decompose just like the man in green had done to his son. But instead of that he simply nodded and leaned out of the embrace. Quickly, he got to his feet, some tears still streaming down ruddy cheeks.

“I need-” Phil took a steadying breath. “I need a lodestone. That’s what I came for.” He looked to Quackity when the young man remarked that he might have one. Dream looked at him curiously, head cocked to the side.

“What for?” He asked. Phil allowed a few more tears to escape before answering, trying to make everything look authentic.

“I wanted to make a compass leading to Wilbur’s grave…” He said quietly. “Now I suppose it’ll lead to Tommy’s as well.” His voice cracked on the final word, and that was where he saw Dream’s confidence falter. It was a change in his stance, a twitch of the arm. Little movements like that which showed that maybe Dream was regretting what he did.

“C’mon, Phil.” Quackity said softly, pulling attention away from the blonde. “I think I know where we can find what you need.” 

As they walked, Quackity chose to speak about everything except Tommy. Phil found it to be a blessing, because even though the older knew his son was alive, the fact that Quackity _couldn’t_ know would overrun him with guilt. Eventually they came across a building Phil knew to be Tubbo’s house.

“Why are we here?” Phil questioned. The sky was beginning to open up, the endless grey letting out droplets of freezing water that soaked the pair to the bone. Quackity shivered, Phil felt nothing.

“I think you two should talk.” The words rang in his head. There was no way he’d be able to keep this from Tubbo, it was impossible. “You both need closure, and I think-” Quackity looked longingly at the door to the house, his shoulders sagging. “I think Tubbo might die without it.” The last words were quiet, but easily understood. Phil nodded and looked forward, about to step up the stairs. “I’ll go get the lodestone and come back.”

“Thank you.” Phil replied, trying to sound as kind as possible. Then, without giving himself another second to think, he walked up the stairs and knocked on the door.

He only had to wait a few moments for a response: the door cracked open and a tired face peeked out. Tubbo’s hair was knotted, his face gaunt, and purple bags hung under his eyes. 

Basically, he looked like Phil felt. 

The kid jumped back a bit in surprise, squinting his eyes as if he couldn’t believe that Phil was real and standing in front of him.

“Phil?” He asked. Phil’s heart broke: he sounded hollow.

“Hey, kiddo.” They stood staring at each other for a while more until Tubbo opened the door fully, welcoming the older man into his home.

Tubbo lived a cozy life for a President: His house was small and compact, much like his and Techno’s cabin was. Everything was spruce planks or logs, crafted expertly by the kid’s own hands. He’d always been an impressive builder, and obviously the new job hadn’t taken away any of that talent.

The two sat on a small couch in front of a roaring hearth, Tubbo excusing himself for just a moment to get some tea from the kitchen for them both. Phil continued to take in his surroundings; from the mess of papers and ink vials on the desk to the lopsided painting hung above the fireplace of all the members from the first disc war, it was clear that the walls of this room held many memories. He wondered if it hurt Tubbo to be in that room and see that painting every day of Tommy smiling with an obvious glint of mischief in his eyes.

It certainly hurt Phil to see Wilbur there, standing proudly next to his younger brother whilst holding the flag of their new country.

Tubbo came back into the room, hands laden with two mugs of peppermint tea, one of which Phil accepted gratefully.

“I haven’t seen you around lately.” The younger began, the couch shifting a bit under his added weight. He had his hands wrapped fully around the mug, as if his hands hadn’t been warm for weeks.

“I’ve been travelling, trying to find a new place to live.” Phil was never proud of his ability to lie on his feet, but sometimes it did come in handy. “I’m only here to get something I need and then leave again…” He took a sip of his own drink, revelling in the warmth that flowed through his veins. “It hurts too much to be here, where… well, you know.” Tubbo nodded thoughtfully

“I understand.” For a few moments the only sounds were the crackling of the fire and the pounding of rain on the roof. Phil sighed and placed his mug on the coffee table, Tubbo looking at him with confusion as he opened his arms.

“C’mere.” He said, and within seconds Tubbo’s mug joined his own on the table and the teenager was wrapped in his arms, sobbing. His body was small and frail; not to the extent that Tommy’s was, but the lack of fat and muscle was still worrisome as he shook in Phil’s gentle grasp. It broke the older’s heart knowing that he could stop this, that he could blurt out _“Tommy’s alive! He’s very injured but he’s okay! I have him hidden at the base of your biggest traitor, don’t worry though, everything will be alright.”_

“Why did he do it?” Tubbo’s voice was muffled by Phil’s cape, but still plenty discernable. “God, it’s my fault. I exiled him, I prioritized what Dream wanted over my best friend, and now he’s _dead.”_ Phil pet his messy hair softly, just like he’d been doing to Tommy the past few days. The situations felt eerily similar.

“This isn’t your fault, Tubbo.” He soothed, trying to keep his own emotions in check. “I…” Phil bit his lip to stop his next words. Would it be too much?

Another full-body sob wracked Tubbo’s small body.

_‘No.’_ He thought, hugging the boy tighter. _‘It won’t be.’_

“Tubbo, I think Dream did this.” He whispered. Tubbo stopped in his shaking, sobs quieting off in shock.

“What?” Phil had to choose his next words carefully.

“I don’t know, I just…” He searched for the right words, the sound catching in his throat when Tubbo pulled back to look at him with those big teary eyes. “I went to see him once.” _Liar_ “He, he looked _awful.”_ The words seemed to make the kid in his arms deflate more. “Tommy is resilient, I don’t think he’d let the situation get him to the state he was in unless there was someone else making things worse.” Tubbo sniffled, gripping Phil’s coat.

“What state was he in?” Phil hesitated once again. He would just end up making the young President more upset.

“It wasn’t good. I think Dream was treating him really, really badly.” Tubbo’s brow furrowed in thought.

“Oh.”

Phil couldn’t quite recall the rest of the conversation then, a few days later. He looked down at Tommy once again, thinking about how much his son would have loved to see Tubbo again. How he _would_ love to see Tubbo again, because the two boys would absolutely be reuniting.

“Phil!” Techno’s gruff voice carried up the stairs. “Do you have any regen potions?” Phil sighed.

“Techno, come up here again please.” The loud thumps of boots on wooden stairs reverberated through the house. Techno’s rage entered the room before he did, decked out in netherite armor and his best weapons.

“What is it?” He asked, flicking his long pink braid over a shoulder. “I’m kind of on a time crunch.”

“Don’t go.” Techno’s brow furrowed, the man shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“Uh… why?

“We need a real plan, Techno.” Phil gestured to the sleeping blonde, who let out a small noise as he shifted a bit under the covers. “He needs you here.”

“He hates me.” Techno deadpanned, leaning on his sword.

“He doesn’t hate you, you’re brothers. You did some bad shit, Techno, and he’s rightfully mad. But did you see the way he reacted when he first saw you?” Techno’s eyes flicked to the stump of his brother’s leg, confliction wracking over him.

“Phil, he begged me for mercy and to kill him painlessly. I don’t think that counts as brotherly love, I think that counts as a cry for help.”

_“Exactly.”_ Outside the window it was beginning to flurry, the old snow on the ground about to be covered in a fresh layer of fluff. “He needs help and support right now. It wouldn’t be too helpful for him to know that his older brother is out risking his life to hunt down and murder Dream, who he seems to somehow still think is his friend.” Phil explained. Techno’s shoulders dropped, an annoyed breath leaving his lips.

“I hate when you’re right.” He grumbled, leaning his sword against the wall. “And I especially hate that in this case it means I don’t get to murder Dream. I’ve been waiting for an excuse-”

“Your brother being abused shouldn’t be an _excuse.”_ Phil said. Techno sighed and walked to his dad’s side, putting a hand on his tired, hunched shoulder.

“You know that’s not what I meant.” Phil bowed his head.

“Yeah, I know.”

\--

It was another twelve hours before Tommy woke up again, once again with a start and panicked breaths until Phil got into his sight line. Their conversation upon this awakening was a lot more productive than the last one they’d had. When Techno came in there was a sight flinch with a small greeting, but it was still progress.

“So no leg?” Tommy had asked, scarfing down a bowl of chicken broth and vegetables as if he’d not eaten a meal in month. Based on the way he looked, that could very well be the reality of the situation. As much as himself and Techno had wanted to feed the frail boy a huge, hearty meal, they both knew it was out of the question. His stomach couldn’t handle the richness of that kind of food so soon after almost starving to death. Phil chuckled, looking down again at the now exposed stump of his son’s thigh.

“It wasn’t exactly our idea for you to chop off your own fucking leg.” Techno said from the other side of the room, sword and whetstone in hand.

“I didn’t have much of a choice.” Tommy grumbled. He must’ve felt Phil’s curious eyes on him, because instead of shutting down he cleared his throat and continued to explain. “I was about to jump off a tower back at my camp. You know, end it all on my own terms.” He chuckled to himself despite the sickening topic, ignoring the fact that Techno had paused in his sword sharpening to listen. “I was so lonely. And Dream said that because I’d disobeyed I had to start from scratch, but this time I could have no visitors. So I built the tower, and looked down, and I was like _‘Huh, Dream maybe was only there to babysit me.’_ but like I’m not sure about that.” 

“Don’t defend him.” Techno interjected gruffly, gripping the hilt of his sword in a white-knuckled hand.

“I-” Tommy started to deny. “Okay.” He looked down and started playing with the furs in his lap, keeping his eyes averted. “Well anyway I left and started wandering. I was missing a shoe and the snow started getting deep and I just wanted to lay down and freeze to death but then I saw the _cabin.”_ He said in one breath like word vomit. Phil wanted to cry, but settled for leaning over his youngest son and wrapping him in a loose hug as to not jostle any of his wounds. Since he’d been given a proper healing potion, a lot of his smaller wounds were completely gone, including the handprint Dream had _so lovingly_ left.

“Frostbite’s a bitch.” Phil said, a bit of laughter in his voice. Tommy allowed a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“You’re telling me.” He moved his leg, kicking out the stump. “Call me pegleg man, bitch.” Techno rolled his eyes.

“You don’t even _have_ a pegleg. Stupid child.” His voice, while he’d never admit to it, was laced with affection and protectiveness for his younger brother, Phil’s heart swelling in pride.

“Well, actually-” Phil got up and walked to the other side of the room, reaching behind the dresser to bring out the project he’d been working on since they’d found Tommy. “You can’t kill a bastard without two legs, huh?” 

Tommy’s blue eyes were wide in shock and delight, looking the most like himself he had the entire time he’d been awake. It was nice to see him happy again, even if Phil knew it was temporary.

“You’re- you made this for me?” Tommy’s voice cracked, reaching out to run his fingers along the smooth wood of a new prosthetic leg.

“No, I made it for your brother.” Phil teased.

“When did you even _make_ that?” Techno asked, a hint of surprise crossing his features as he too got up to see Phil’s craftsmanship.

“Technoblade may never die, but Technoblade has to sleep.” The older man said with a wink. “It has a compass in it too, look.” Phil pointed to a small metal device inlaid into the wood. “It always points here, to home.”

“I don’t know what to say…” Tommy said softly. He took his hand away from the gift, as if his touch would cause it to disintegrate. “Are you going to take it back? Because if you’re gonna take it back I don’t want it. I don’t wanna rely-” Phil frowned.

“We aren’t Dream, Toms. We would never do something that cruel.”

“Dream would say that it was to toughen me up.” The blonde boy said, his voice laden with confusion.

“That… that’s _wrong.”_ Techno was, once again, extremely pissed off. Tommy stayed quiet for a bit, staring at the steadily picking up rate of snow outside. Phil reached out and grabbed Tommy’s hand again, running his thumb soothingly over his younger son’s knuckles while his older paced back and forth in front of the door, trying to calm himself down.

“Am I broken, now?” Tommy asked, but voiced it as more of a statement. Phil’s heart melted, squeezing the smaller hand gently. “I feel like I’m broken. My brain isn’t supposed to be like this, is it?”

“Like what, Toms?” He was quiet again, thinking.

“I keep thinking about laying down in that snow outside. I could join Ghostbur, wherever he is. I could keep him company. And I could go see Tubbo whenever I want.” Icy blue eyes turned slowly, meeting his father’s. “Maybe that’s what was meant to be, since nothing else so far has been.” Phil and Techno glanced at each other for a moment, fear shared between them.

_This was really, really bad._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys are liking it so far! For fic updates, polls, and other MCYT content, follow me on Twitter or TikTok @azkaabanter!! ALSO I’M TAKING REQUESTS, SO HIT ME UP ON TWITTER WOO


	3. Monster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry for the wait, y’all!! Here’s a very very long update to make up for it <3 ALSO HUGE THANKS TO @TheLittleStar_tm FOR GIVING HELLA IDEAS FOR THIS CHAPTER!!! Go read her story if you have the time, it’s pretty epic. Anyway, enjoy!!

To Techno, Tommy was a bit of an enigma growing up. It was probably because they were pretty much opposites; where Tommy was boisterous and impulsive, Techno was cool and calculated. They would clash constantly to the point where Phil actually had to sit them both down separately and have conversations about what it meant to be a family, blah blah blah. This ended up with the older of the two deciding that Tommy would be his least favorite family member.

Now, he was a child when he decided that, and as he grew older that opinion began to dissipate into yet another foolish childhood memory, just like how he would ignore Wilbur for days at a time for refusing to take sparring seriously. He didn’t _hate_ Tommy, not at all. He couldn’t hate his little brother.

But be annoyed virtually anytime the blonde would open his mouth? He could certainly do that.

Now though, as Tommy was stumbling outside of Techno’s self-imposed exile lair on his new leg three weeks after waking from a trauma, cold, and malnourishment induced coma, his opinion had shifted again. 

“Guys, check this out!” Tommy called from the snow a few feet out from the porch, getting Techno and Phil’s attention on him (as if they hadn’t been watching him like hawks in the first place) to demonstrate another attempt at running that ended in him falling face-first into the snow. Phil allowed himself a small smile at the action, replying back with a _‘That was a lot better, Toms! You’ve almost got it!’_ Techno, however, was sitting on the bench with his arms crossed, eyes trained on the horizon as if at any point, Dream was going to appear on the hill and he’d finally be able to gut that bastard in the way he deserved.

As the days passed and Tommy’s health increased physically as well as mentally, Techno’s anger did anything but disappear. It was building with every smile that graced his brother’s lips, every shaky step he took on his new leg, because it was _Dream’s fault_ that he’d been too terrified to smile in the first place, and it was _Dream’s fault_ that he’d needed to run away and cut off his own leg. So that new opinion Techno had of Tommy, well it wasn’t exactly an opinion. It was a gut feeling, a promise in the back of his head and the bottom of his heart that he would get revenge, and protect that kid with his life if it came to that. 

The sun was just beginning the dip below that horizon, the sky subtly becoming painted with pinks and golds and purples and oranges that promised the coming onset of night. It was a rare sunny day at their little cottage, the light reflecting off the snow and making it nearly impossible to see for the majority of the day. That didn’t stop Tommy from putting on his newly made uniform, one that closely matched Phil and Techno’s baby blue garb. It suited him, made him fit in. If only Wilbur had been there; it would’ve been just like old times.

“Hey, loosen up a bit.” Phil knocked his shoulder into his older son’s, eyes crinkling with the ghost of a smile. Techno just grunted and continued to alternate his gaze between the darkening skyline and Tommy, who was now almost definitely freezing despite the thickness of his clothes and boot. “Techno.” Phil said again, more sternly.

“Yes, your majesty?”

“He’s fine. He’s healing. You can relax a little bit.” Techno scoffed and adjusted his body position so that his sword was perfectly within his reach.

“He’s fine until Dream comes up over that hill and kills him, or takes him from us.” He said quietly, trying to be sure that Tommy wouldn’t be able to hear. Saying Dream’s name often sent him into a panic attack or some other type of episode, so it was best to avoid it altogether. “I swear the next time-”

“The next time you see him you’ll tear him limb for limb and make him beg for forgiveness, I know.” Phil finished. He turned back to Tommy, who was attempting to build a crude snowman whilst he visibly shivered from the cold. “You’ve been saying the same thing every day.”

“I wouldn’t have to talk about it all the time if you would just let me go to L’Manberg and kill him.” Techno grumbled. Phil stood up and cracked his back casually, allowing a small noise to escape from his mouth. 

Old man.

“You know exactly why I can’t let you do that.” Techno rolled his eyes, but in reality, as much as he hated it, going in and trying to murder the only man on the server whose strength and IQ came close to his own wasn’t the best bet. If he were to fail, Tommy and Phil were dead, no question. Any tentative alliances he’d made with the Dream SMP would be severed, and he’d be hunted down. He was already certain that L’Manberg wanted him dead, but that he could deal with. He was pretty strong, if he did say so himself. Dream though… Dream was a different story when it came to strength. The man was godlike.

“I don’t like waiting.”

“Do you think I want him alive any more than you do?” Techno stayed silent. “That son of a bitch killed Wilbur, manipulated Tommy to the point of suicide, and turned whole countries against you. I want him dead, Techno.” Phil’s voice shook as he spoke, but Techno didn’t acknowledge it. Not worth it.

“Then what’s the wait for? We haven’t even tried to make a plan-” Techno pushed more, even though he knew it wasn’t the time: Phil was already on edge from worry and lack of sleep. “And you shut down my idea of taking George hostage- come on, these ideas are genius-”

“It’s just not the time, alright?” Phil cut him off abruptly, and the little edge in his tone was enough to shut up the pink haired man, who then slumped back in his previous position to watch his brother. “I think I’m just a little scared, ya know? I mean if something were to happen to us, Tommy has no shot at survival when he can’t even walk properly yet. I want to make sure that if, you know, we _died_ because of Dream, he would still have a chance.” Techno raised his eyebrows a bit, surprised by the confession. Phil wasn’t one to let people know when he was afraid, especially not his sons.

“I think we could take him.” Techno said softly.

“That’s not the _point.”_ Phil said, volume rising a bit. “This is a risk versus reward situation, Tech, and I don’t think you fully understand that. You can’t win every battle. No one can.” That bite had returned to his voice, annoyance permeating the usually warm tones. The older man turned his attention back to the sparkling snow before them, the sounds of zombie growls rolling in from the mountains and forest. “Tommy! Let’s go get some dinner in ya!” Phil called. Tommy stopped in his snowman building, a crazed grin on his face, but didn’t make a move to come closer.

“Aww come _onnnn,_ I’m almost done!” He whined. Phil crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against one of the walls of the cabin, wings folded carefully behind him. 

“Sorry man, you’re still weak and monsters are coming out, not to mention the cold.” He gestured to the porch steps. “Come on.” Tommy still didn’t move closer, and Techno could sense annoyance starting to take over in Phil’s demeanor.

“First off, I’m not fuckin weak, you bitch.” He said it in a joking way, but even from afar Techno could see the way he’d deflated at the insinuation of him being weak in the slightest, even with him being down a limb and possessing the BMI of a chicken wing. Phil’s brow furrowed as Tommy continued to speak. “Anyway, I wanted to build her a crossbow so she can be a badass like me-” He bent down to pick up more snow. “It’ll be so fuckin cool, just let me-”

_“Tommy.”_ Phil snapped. Instantly, the kid’s mouth snapped closed, smile long gone. His posture slouched, like he was trying to make himself as small as possible, and he began to tremble a bit. Techno’s head whipped around to look at Phil, who had brought a hand to his mouth, eyes wide with shock; despite knowing that his father hadn’t done it on purpose, Techno’s blood began to boil. 

“Phil, what the hell were you thinking?” He asked sharply, uncharacteristically serious as he bolted off the porch and into the snow, not missing the flinch when he reached out to comfort his stupid younger brother. The kid was shaking like a leaf, and breathing heavily: even though Technoblade wasn’t exactly known for his ability to comfort, he tried his best to pull Tommy into his arms and under his larger cloak for warmth and safety. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m _sorry.”_ He kept muttering, face buried in Techno’s chest. Phil’s footsteps approached from behind, and while his first instincts were to not let the man near Tommy, he reluctantly allowed Phil into their little embrace.

“Toms-” Phil started. He reached out to run fingers through soaking wet blonde hair, but once again Tommy shrank back from the touch, eyes shut tight.

“Please don’t hurt me Dream, please you can take everything, burn it, do anything, don’t hit me please, please, please-” Phil and Techno shared a look, and immediately the latter pulled Tommy into his arms and stood up, the small family making their way back into the cottage, snowman forgotten.

Techno dumped Tommy onto the couch in front of the fire, taking off his wet cape and boots while Phil crouched in front of him, apologizing profusely and attempting to bring the panicking kid back to reality. The fabric of the blue one-shouldered cape was heavy with liquid and freezing in Techno’s hands, so he busied himself with wringing out the garment: it totally wasn’t to distract himself from the bloodlust bubbling in his veins.

_‘_ _Dream broke Tommy. Dream needs to pay.’_ The voices were loud, but Techno needed to ignore them. Just for now. 

“Tommy, I shouldn’t have snapped at you, I’m so sorry kiddo.” Phil said quietly. “You have nothing to be sorry for, nothing at all.” Tommy continued to whimper, but the apologies and begging for Dream to let him live dissipated until there were no noises other than shaky sobs.

“Phil?” Techno allowed his shoulders to relax when the name was uttered by Tommy, and the sound of the kid being pulled into Phil’s arms reached his ears. He hung the damp cape up on a hook near the mantle and looked onto the scene of his father and brother, the former cradling Tommy in his arms whilst whispering words of encouragement into his ear.

“You feeling any better, gremlin?” Techno asked, trying to imbue a bit of humor into the words. Tommy sniffled and nodded, leaning into Phil’s side when the older moved from kneeling in front of his son to sitting next to him on the couch.

Techno didn’t know how he got dragged into all of this family shit, but somehow being found abandoned as a kid by a blonde dude with wings ended up with him contemplating a man’s murder whilst simulateously ladelling three bowls of stew.

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t know why that keeps happening… it’s fucking annoying.” Tommy said, taking a bowl from Techno’s hands. He played with the spoon a bit, staring at the broth and meat as if it would somehow unveil the secrets to the universe.

“Probably because you’re a child, I dunno.” Techno said casually, shrugging his shoulders. “Hormones or something. Teenager stuff.” Tommy rolled his eyes, a sad smile on his lips.

“I think that makes it a bit more depressing, big man.” He said, cupping the bowl to absorb some of the warmth into his freezing fingers; he wasn’t looking to lose any other body parts due to the cold. “Still, though, I’m really sorry-”

“You have nothing to be sorry about, now shut up and eat your stew.” Techno said, cutting him off. He ruffled Tommy’s hair with his free hand, then handed Phil the other bowl and went to get his own. 

The rest of the night was quiet, with clouds rolling in to cover the crescent moon, bringing even more snow down upon the cottage. Phil and Techno didn’t mention Tommy’s episode at all, and Tommy himself seemed perfectly happy to forget about it and focus on talking animatedly about swords instead. It felt almost like childhood again; maybe if Techno closed his eyes and wished hard enough, it really could be.

By the time Tommy had fallen asleep on the couch, Phil and Techno were prepared to do exactly the same thing. Carefully Phil picked up his snoring son and carried him up the stairs, depositing him back in the second bedroom and shutting the door as quietly as possible.

“He’s getting better, I think. He snapped out of that episode a lot quicker than last time.” Techno said, keeping his voice low. Phil looked unconvinced as they walked the short distance down the hallway and came to Techno’s door.

“It’s the fact that he’s even having these episodes that concerns me.” He said. “I’ve never seen PTSD this bad, never in my life. He won’t be over this for years- he might not get over it at all.” Techno rested his hand on the door handle, exhaustion making his limbs heavy.

“Listen, if it takes me letting him deliver the killing blow to Dream to help get out of this hole, then I’ll let him do it. I’ll do whatever it takes.” Phil looked at his oldest son once more, the kind glint in his eye ever present, as well as a bit of pride.

“You’ve really changed, haven’t you.” Phil’s voice was gentle and soothing. “You go into retirement and suddenly family means something to you- where was this compassion when you were blowing up the country Tommy and Will built?” Techno pressed his lips into a hard line.

“Them being my brothers didn’t change the fact that they were upholding values that I despise.” Techno was pensive for a moment, thinking about how he wanted to word his next sentence. “I didn’t want to see them become corrupted in the way government corrupts everyone who comes within inches of it. Even the strongest wills fall victim to power.” He turned the doorknob, ready to get out of his heavy clothes and let sleep overtake his mind. “Maybe Tommy will understand me a little bit more, now that he’s seen even his best friend be corrupted by that same power he wanted so desperately.” And with that, he bid his father goodnight.

\--

Nothing of substantial interest happened for the next three days. There were a few Tommy breakdowns; one at the sight of TNT in a chest, and another at a mention of the ocean that Techno didn’t really understand. Still though, him and Phil believed there was progress happening, no matter how small. 

Phil was outside tending to the bees while Techno and Tommy were inside eating some leftover soup from the night before. They’d been having a lot of soups and stews lately, mostly for Tommy’s benefit. He was still having trouble eating a lot of solid foods, so they’d been getting by on whatever easy to swallow mush they could get their hands on. The bees themselves had proven invaluable; their honey was packed with sugars that were helping Tommy to get his strength back, plus they added a sweetness to the endless mugs of herbal tea he was forced to drink.

Techno looked out the window as he ate a hunk of bread, taking in the soft flurries from light grey clouds above. That was his favorite type of weather in the tundra- the clouds were thin enough to allow the sun’s light to pass through, but not so thin that the glare on the white snow would blind him if he stepped out onto the porch. It was peaceful, and Techno felt like, with Tommy talking animatedly in the chair beside him about who knows what, he could finally relax a bit.

What a stupid thought.

“So I said, _‘You don’t get round, mama-cita-’_ and then-” Tommy was saying, and even though Techno was trying to follow along, but he just… felt like something was off. 

His pointed ears twitched, picking up some faint noises coming from outside. It sounded like a voice, probably Phil’s.

Techno’s heart went into his throat.

Why would Phil be talking to himself so loudly that he could hear the words through the walls?

“Tommy could you be a doll and be quiet for like one second?” Techno asked. Tommy looked taken aback for a moment, probably because he saw the look on his brother’s face.

“Wha- why?”

“Just one second, seriously.” Techno stood up and crept silently to the window with baited breath. He was an atheist in every sense of the word, but still he prayed to gods who didn’t exist that Phil wasn’t talking to who he thought he was talking to.

“-king about coming back to L’Manberg to visit Tubbo and see how he’s doing.” Phil’s voice was crystal clear now that Techno was so close to the window. He was definitely being loud on purpose.

“Well you could just move back into your house there instead of living with the country’s traitor. Why are you hiding from the country your sons built?” Techno stumbled back from the window, the voices immediately going from soft whispers in the back of his head to a roar.

_‘KILL HIM! MAKE HIM PAY! SLIT HIS THROAT!’_ They were so loud and so tempting that he put his hand to where his scabbard normally was in a move to draw his sword, which was currently leaning against the wall near the door. He needed to protect Tommy before he even started to consider killing Dream.

“Dream, I can assure you that I have _no reason to hide.”_ Phil’s voice carried through the walls again, breaking Techno out of his stupor. He looked to Tommy, who obviously couldn’t hear what was going on outside. His head was cocked to the side, a confused expression on his face.

“Why are you acting so fucking weir-”

“You need to hide. Right now.” Techno interrupted him, voice lowered to a rough whisper while his eyes raced around the room, trying to come up with a place to hide his little brother.

This wasn’t happening.

Tommy quirked an eyebrow in response, placing his spoon back in the bowl before him. 

“Why the fuck-”

“I’m really just here to see Techno, I won’t stay long.” Tommy’s eyes went wide and he nearly kicked over his chair in an effort to scramble away from the front door at the sound of Dream’s voice, which was much closer to the house than it had been seconds before. Techno’s heart was racing as he took Tommy by the arm and pulled him to the basement ladder.

By the time Techno managed to actually get him down the first level, Tommy was already shaking. They had no plan, and nowhere to go except down. Phil had made a regular staircase down into the cow room without consulting him first, and this was the only time Techno had ever been thankful for his father’s redecorating habit.

“Come on, we don’t have much time left.” Techno urged. Tommy was ghostly pale, hardly able to stand on his own even when he _wasn’t_ having a panic attack.

“I-I-” Techno took him by the arm again roughly, Tommy flinching away from the touch.

“Come _on!”_ His voice was a whisper yell, anxiety rushing through his body as he pushed his little brother down those stairs and into the lowest room of the building. Above their heads Techno could still hear faint conversation from outside the house. They had a few minutes, at best: Phil couldn’t stall Dream forever. “Shit, shit, shit.” Techno panicked, looking around the room for somewhere to hide Tommy, but it was no use. The room was basically empty except for the cow and small boat, which definitely wasn’t a suitable hiding place. Tommy, meanwhile, was slumped against his side muttering incoherently. “You need to stay with me here. I can’t do all the work.” Techno grunted as he shifted his brother’s weight.

“I don’t have any armor to put in the hole. I don’t have anything, please-” Techno paused at the words.

The hole.

He looked at the brick in the corner which contained a large crack, and immediately started pulling Tommy over to it despite the nausea that was building in his stomach. He deposited the teenager against the wall, praying that his now audible mutterings wouldn’t be heard from upstairs while he pulled a pickaxe from his back and began carving out that block of stone. 

_‘You can’t put him down there.’_ The voices hissed. _‘You’re going to hurt Tommy. You’re hurting him. You need to stop.’_ They screamed, and even though Techno knew they were right he couldn’t stop, and didn’t stop until the cavern was uncovered and the smell of rotting flesh slapped him across the face, making him gag.

“Tommy, come here.” He said, pushing back the bile that rose in his throat. He had to put Tommy in there, he had no choice. He turned to look at his brother, whose expression had at some point turned from one of delirium to one of total fear.

“Don’t make me go in there.” He whispered, breathing uneven and shallow. Techno’s heart ached at the idea of his brother breaking down, losing all of the progress he’d made over the past few weeks and knowing that he was the cause of it this time; not Dream. Still though, he stepped closer; they were running out of time.

“I promise it won’t be for long but you _have to get in the hole.”_ He tried to be reasonable, but Tommy wasn’t in his world. He was trapped in a flashback, thinking he was about to die, while in reality he was gonna die if he didn’t get in the goddamn pit. The blonde scrambled for purchase on the wall, trying to move away from Techno’s grasp as quickly as possible without falling. The hybrid let him go, purely out of fear of bringing even more discomfort to the kid than was necessary. Tommy stumbled away, clutching the place where Techno’s hand had sunk into his flesh, looking up at his older brother with a primal fear in his eyes. Fat tears flowed down his cheeks, accompanied by heavy and gut wrenching sobs and attempts to speak that were nothing more than garbled messes.

“I did everything you said! Dream, please- I thought we were friends, I didn’t do anything wrong-” Techno paused at that name. 

Dream.

Tommy saw him as _Dream._

He took a step back, as if the word had a real weight to it.

It hurt, so fucking much to see that look on his little brother’s face, and know that he not only had caused it, but couldn’t do anything to give Tommy comfort, or even reassure him that he wasn’t Dream, and wasn’t going to hurt him. Techno’s ear flicked to the side, voices above him now even louder.

They were out of time.

Techno took a deep breath, and set his jaw. He hoped that one day Tommy would be able to forgive him.

He drew his pickaxe up once more in as threatening a manner as he could muster, ignoring the sting of tears in the back of his eyes as he walked towards his terrified younger brother.

“Tommy get in the goddamn hole or I’ll cut off your other leg.” Tommy’s eyes widened, glassy and unseeing.

“Dream, you _promised_ you wouldn’t hurt me anymore if I listened-”

“It doesn’t seem like you’re listening very well right now, does it?” Tommy shut his mouth, staring up at the pickaxe poised to strike him down through the head.

_“Please-”_

“I’ll kill Phil.” Techno forced out. If Tommy didn’t care about his own wellbeing, he had to care about theirs. “I’ll take away your family, the only people who love you. Would you rather lose that, or go down there?” He asked. Tommy stared at him for a few moments longer before finally crawling to the hole and looking down at the small drop. “Go on then, unless you want me to throw some TNT in there with you.” The teenager looked up at his older brother in that moment, eyes full of hate.

“You’re a _monster.”_ He whispered, then dropped into the hole, a small cry escaping from his lips when he hit the ground.

Technoblade was no sap, and not one to be controlled by his feelings.

He looked down in the gore filled cavern at his little brother curled up hyperventilating in a pile of old bloody blankets, the scene almost reminding him of a time when they were children. Techno had pushed Tommy down a hill, the child scraping his knees and bawling his eyes out until Phil heard and carried him back to the house, surrounding him with blankets as he cleaned and wrapped the wounds. Techno had received a stern talking to that day, about not intentionally hurting his brothers and playing nice, and _‘Don’t you feel bad? Look how upset your little brother is!’_ : he never really understood the whole ‘feeling bad’ part. He knew that soon the tears would stop, the wounds would heal, and any anger towards him would be forgotten. What was the use in being upset when eventually things would pass?

Now though, that same little blonde pain in the ass was all grown up, his abuser was upstairs, and Techno understood everything Phil had told him.

“If I hear a sound from you this pickaxe goes through Tubbo’s brain, understood?” Tommy nodded enthusiastically, and clapped a hand over his mouth for good measure. 

Techno replaced the bricks as quickly as possible, and if a few tears landed in the dust, no one needed to know about it. He stood up, replaced his pick on his back, tried to make the corner look as inconspicuous as possible, then climbed back up the stairs. The voices screamed at him louder with every step away from the hole he took.

_‘He thinks you’re a monster. You hurt Tommy. You’re just like Dream.’_ It hurt so goddamn badly, like knives being driven into his heart. 

He nursed his little brother back to health only to push him back to square one.

Techno climbed the ladder back into the main room of his home, catching his reflection in a mirror to be sure that there were no remnants of his mining or his tears on his face. His job protecting Tommy wasn’t over- now was the hard part. 

“Phil, I’m sure the turtles are super cool, but I need to go inside.” Dream’s voice carried through the door, a surge of hatred filling the pinkette to the brim. He walked to the door with heavy footsteps, taking the brief seconds to try his best to push Tommy out of his mind. Techno opened it slowly, trying to make his movement seem as casual as possible.

“Can I help you?” He drawled. Dream turned immediately to face him, porcelain smiley mask secured to his face, his usual hunter’s cloak replaced by a plain green hoodie, and his netherite sword strapped to his back. The man was so confident that he didn’t even wear armor.

Phil took a step back, out of Dream’s view to throw a questioning look at his son.

_‘Where’s Tommy?’_ His face seemed to ask. Techno couldn’t risk signalling anything back.

“Ah, how are you doing, Techno?” Dream asked. It all felt a little bit too casual.

“I’ve been better. This whole ‘self imposed exile’ thing has gotten a little mundane.” The blonde chuckled behind his mask, the noise feeling like a show of mocking.

“I can see how that could happen.” He said. There was an awkward silence for a moment, none of the three men knowing what to say next. Techno was fairly occupied with forcing himself not to either jump Dream or race down to the basement and get Tommy out of that hole. “Hey Phil, would you mind if I talked to Techno alone?” He asked. Phil shot Techno a look, the taller shrugging indifferently.

“Sounds fine to me.” Phil nodded, then turned slowly to walk back towards the bee farm, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds to make sure the blonde didn’t try anything.

Soon it was just Techno and Dream, the former standing in the doorframe protectively.

“So uh, whaddaya need?” Techno asked. Dream reached up to scratch his head whilst taking a look around at the surroundings, as if he had all the time in the world.

“I’m just here to pick up that little totem you found.” Techno cocked his head to the side, feigning misunderstanding.

“Totem?”

“The totem of undying. You know, the reason I gave you those maps?” Dream paused, folding his arms over his chest. “What, you didn’t think I was gonna let you _keep that,_ did you?” Techno stayed silent for a moment. Dream didn’t know he’d gotten two of them. Well, he’d _used_ Techno as a means to not go to the mansion himself under the guise of helping Techno, but he’d ignore that little fact for the moment. (The voices wouldn’t)

He could do something with the second totem. He could give it to Tommy, maybe. As a kind of _‘I’m sorry for further traumatizing you’_ present.

“I… may have been under that impression, not gonna lie.” Techno replied, trying to ignore the voices hissing that this was his chance, he could draw his sword and get his revenge- the weapon was right next to the door, easily within reach. “But I may be able to rustle the thing up.” Techno turned to go retrieve one of the totems, but an arm on his shoulder made him tense up and pause.

_‘Kill him, kill him, kill him.’_

“What, you’re not gonna invite me in? It’s a little chilly out here.” Dream said. Techno clenched his fists- the bastard knew exactly what he was doing.

“Ah, yeah sorry about that. I forgot how weak you are, when it comes to cold at least.” He gestured to Dream to follow him inside. The air suddenly felt suffocating, and Techno swore he could hear every one of Tommy’s breaths from down in that bunker. 

“Nice place you got here.” Dream remarked, looking around the room carefully.

“Yeah, well homeless vagabonds usually do tend to find even the most underwhelming and unextraordinary structures inviting, I suppose.” Techno said, narrowing his eyes. The man was obviously looking for something- there was no other explanation for why he’d be scanning every surface the way he was while he strolled around the small first floor. The blonde paused next to the table where his and Tommy’s soup bowls lay cold and forgotten to look at Techno from behind that stupid mask.

Techno found himself daydreaming of seeing it smashed on the floor, covered in a thick coat of traitorous abuser blood.

“You know I’m not homeless, right?” Dream said. Techno shrugged, heart beating a billion miles an hour: to get the totem, he’d have to go down a level.

“If it makes you feel better about the fact that you live in a cardboard box to say that you have a home, be my guest.” Techno muttered, making his way over to the ladder leading into his storage room.

“I have a fucking house-”

“Yeah okay, Dream. Okay.” He put a foot down on the first rung. “Make yourself at home, I guess. I’ll be back in a second.” Dream nodded, immediately turning to eye the staircase leading up to the second story. As Techno descended into the first layer of basement, he was very happy that all Tommy had were the clothes on his back and the prosthetic, because by this point it was fairly obvious that Dream was not visiting out of neighborly love, nor desire for his totem.

Techno rushed towards his chests, standing in front of them all for a solid thirty seconds before realizing that he wasn’t sure where he’d put the totems.

_‘Every second wasted is another second Tommy is suffering. Selfish, selfish, selfish-’_

“God, shut up for a second.” He muttered, opening his valuables chest and sifting through the carefully organized piles of gems and ores.

“Can’t find what you’re looking for?” A voice behind Techno nearly caused him to jump, but he managed to keep himself under control, closing the chest to see Dream stood behind him, a hand resting casually on the hilt of his sword.

“I’m sure it’s around here, I musta put it in my tool chest or something.” Dream hummed in agreement, watching as Techno moved to his next chest and opened it up.

“Sounds like a Tommy thing to do, if you ask me.” He said. Techno paused for half a second. 

_‘He knows, kill him now. Kill him before he finds Tommy.’_ The voices shrieked. 

“What, misplacing something?” Techno allowed himself a halfhearted chuckle- just because Dream mentioned the kid didn’t mean he knew. “When he was alive he always knew where his stuff was-”

“When he was alive?” Dream cut him off. Oh, so he was gonna play that game, huh?

“Have you not heard?” Techno asked, moving on to his next chest. “Aren’t you the almighty ruler of the SMP? Shouldn’t you be privy to this type of information?” Dream stayed silent. “Yeah, Tubbo found his camp blown to bits, and a tower he jumped off of. Boom, pow, splat, no more Tommy.” It was hard to keep the shakiness out of his voice while he dug through old armor, his hands trembling. “Come to think of it, Phil told me he found out from you, actually.”

“You don’t seem all too upset about your younger brother dying, man.” Techno saw red as the blonde avoided the question. He wanted to kill Dream with every fibre of his being, every beat of his sick heart, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. Not yet.

“Did you not watch me spawn Withers in to blow his country to smithereens? I’m pretty sure you were there for that.” Techno’s heart ached at the words. “If that didn’t tell you how much I care about Tommy, I think you’re beyond understanding the complexities of my familial relationships.”

Footsteps on the bricks behind Techno made him turn around; Dream was standing at the staircase to the bottom floor, looking down curiously.

“Do you mind if I explore a bit?” Techno’s heart leapt into his chest.

_‘Don’t let him near Tommy. Tommy is down there, you can’t let him near.’_

“Knock yourself out. All that’s down there is a cow.” Dream descended the stairs slowly, Techno watching his every step. It could all end, right there. If Dream were to step on that corner brick, Tommy was dead.

Techno slumped against the chest he’d been digging through, the urge to vomit his brains out immediately taking over his body. 

He resisted it.

He had to get Dream back up onto his floor, away from the cave. Away from-

“Why do you have a whole room dedicated to a cow? And how did you get a cow down that ladder?” Dream’s voice hit Techno’s ears again.

That was fast.

“That’s for me to know, and you to ignore.” Techno turned back to the chest he was looking through before, and there, at the very bottom, were his totems. He took one in hand, but before he could say that he’d found it, Dream spoke up instead.

“You know, I have a long trip home.” Techno’s eyebrows about shot to his hairline; he dropped the totem back into the chest and turned around to see Dream already preparing to climb the ladder. 

“Aw, don’t tell me you’re leaving already?” 

_Please get the fuck out of my house._

Dream let out a small snort, hands still on the rungs of the ladder.

“I saw a storm coming in when I was on my way over, I wanna get home before it hits.” Techno nodded in mock understanding.

“Ah of course- gotta reinforce the cardboard box.” By the way Dream was climbing the ladder and the way he stood at the top of it, Techno could tell that the guy was pouting behind the mask.

“I could kill you right now.” Dream said, being subtly herded towards the door by his tentative ally.

“You could, but you won’t.” Techno smirked, opening the door up. “Didn’t you come here for something, you know, a little ‘dark magicky?’” Dream shrugged, walking out into the wind and snow as if he couldn’t feel the bite of the cold.

“I was thinking about it- honestly you might need that totem more than me, what with the things L’Manberg has in store for you.” Snow stuck in messy blonde hair before he pulled up his hood and stuck large hands in the pocket of his hoodie. “Besides; I got what I wanted.” Dream said, then promptly turned on his heel and set off into the snowstorm that was worsening by the minute.

He got what he wanted.

Techno watched him walk away from the doorway; even though his body was itching to get Tommy out of that hole, he knew he couldn’t risk it until Dream was well out of sight. At some point Phil joined him on the porch, wringing his hands in anxiety.

“Where’s Tommy?” He asked, voice no higher than a whisper. Techno couldn’t look him in the eye- not with what he was about to tell his father.

“I-” For once, Technoblade was lost for words as tears flowed down his cheeks-

Phil couldn’t remember ever in his life seeing Techno cry.

“I’m so sorry.” He said, falling heavily to his knees, hands buried in long hair, messing up the careful braid Tommy had done that morning. Phil reached down to comfort his son, to reassure him, but then paused. Techno took that pause as him realizing where Tommy was, and his suspicions were confirmed when the older man pushed his way past and bolted into the cabin.

_‘FOLLOW HIM!’_ The voices were the loudest they’d ever been, so instead of staying a heap on the floor he dragged himself to his feet, pulling the door closed and making his way down two stories into the bottom floor.

The tears didn’t stop; in fact they only increased in volume as Techno watched Phil dig the brick out once again and look down in the hole with a shout. Honestly, the following minutes consisting of Phil pulling Tommy out were a blur to Techno. He was afraid to get close- afraid to even let Tommy _see_ him out of fear of making things worse.

_“_ _You’re a monster.”_ Tommy had said.

He was right.

“Toms, it’s me, it’s Dad.” Phil tried to coax a response from Tommy, but the teenager refused to speak, keeping his hand clamped over his mouth. Techno could make out chunks of hair missing from his head, as if he’d been pulling at it too hard while he sat in that dark, filthy hole. Fuck, wasn’t his severed limb still down there? Why did they never clean it out? “Tommy please, he’s gone, he can’t hurt you…” Phil wept, arms wrapped around his youngest son.

“Phil, I had no choice-” Techno forced the words out, shutting his eyes tightly. This was his fault.

“I know, it’ll be okay, I know.” Phil said, then pressed his lips to Tommy’s hair. Techno made himself stand up-

If Tommy thought he was Dream, maybe he could give permission to speak or something. It was so fucked up.

“Toms, can you hear me?” Techno wiped his cheeks to get rid of the tears and crouched down in front of his brother. Tommy looked at him for a long while before he nodded, blue eyes wide and tear filled. Techno took a deep breath before speaking again, receiving an encouraging nod from Phil. “Do you know who I am, Tommy?” He nodded once again, slowly this time. Heart racing, Techno continued. “Can you say my name?” Tommy seemed to consider the question, before shaking his head no.

“It’s okay. We love you, we’re here for you.” Phil said softly, visibly tightening his arms. 

“Please, Tommy?” Techno tried again.

“You’re Techno.” Tommy said, and a huge weight was lifted off of his chest. Tommy was back in reality. 

“That’s right, you’re right.” Phil said, pride leaking into his voice. There was more silence, but it was mostly for the purpose of giving Tommy space to express himself whenever he was comfortable with it. 

“Is Dream gonna hurt you guys? Was I quiet enough, is he gonna hurt Tubbo?” He whispered. Techno recoiled, biting his lip.

_‘You did this. Monster. Monster.’_

“Dream isn’t going to lay a finger on anyone.” Phil locked eyes with Techno, gaze holding a silent promise. “We’re going to get our revenge.” Techno nodded in acknowledgement, but kept his attention mostly on Tommy, who had begun to mutter apologies under his breath again. He was going to right this somehow, he was going to make this better. 

He was going to kill Dream, and deliver that mask to Tommy so he could smash it personally.

Techno let Phil carry his crippled brother up the stairs, the taller man still wary of touching him. They managed to get Tommy up the ladder as well, and laid him gently on the couch to rest. The teenager clung to his father’s sleeve as a blanket was draped over him and the amber firelight coated the side of his pale face in a silent plea to not be left alone: Phil had no problem sitting next to his son, placing his head in his lap to stroke his hair until he fell into a fitful sleep.

“Tomorrow we leave for L’Manberg.” Phil said, just loud enough for Techno to hear from his place in the kitchen.

“What about Tommy?” The older man stayed silent, his gaze focused on the teenager’s messy blonde hair. The fire crackled comfortingly, and once again the snow was coming down in droves outside the window. Their little false reality at the cottage was broken- nothing good could last. 

“We’ll have to take him with us; we can’t leave him alone.” Phil sounded determined, angry. “We could probably sneak him into Tubbo’s house, there has to be something we can do, because I’m not letting that fucker live another day.” Techno stayed quiet.

Tommy remembered him. He thought all of that- what happened in the basement- was Dream. Or something like that, anyway. His brother hadn’t been afraid of him, but still he felt the incredible weight of guilt on his shoulders.

He threatened Tommy, used his trauma as a tool, even if it was for his overall protection he felt terrible. He was never going to forget the look on Tommy’s face as he begged not to go back in the place where he suffered alone and in pain for weeks on end.

Techno played with the end of his braid as Phil made plans to murder Dream, but he tuned it out. Normally he was all for planning the downfall of a government official, but his anger at himself overran the anger he felt for Dream.

“Phil, I think we need to wait.” Techno said, his voice shaky. Phil paused in his rant. “You were right- Tommy isn’t ready, he needs to heal more. He needs to take his revenge properly.” 

“You’re right, you’re right.” The reply came seconds later. Techno sat on the arm of the couch next to Phil, the older man looking up at him with sad eyes. “He’s gonna be okay, Techno. I know you’re probably beating yourself up, but you did what you had to do.” Phil comforted.

“You don’t know what I had to do…” He trailed off, toying once again with the end of his braid.

“It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that he’s safe, and you know that he still loves you, and so do I.” Techno nodded in response, but stared into the fire blankly.

No matter what Phil said, Techno would always be what he’d been since he was a child:

A monster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all wanted angst, I BROUGHT IT!! I left this ending kind of open because idk, I might want to come back to this fic at some point, but I’m happy with where it is. For more MCYT fic content, as well as other things having to do with our favorite block men, follow me on Twitter @azkaabanter. I love y’all, and I can’t wait to see what you have to say!!


	4. Guilt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUESS WHO'S BACK IT'S ME!! Lmao remember when this was a oneshot? And then it was a threeshot? Yeah fuck that, who would do such a thing???? 
> 
> So I had another strike of inspiration here, and well... you'll see where it goes. You may have noticed that some tags have changed... is that mean of me? Probably. But at least you're getting that good SBI content out of it. Typing this all out really hurt because I'm suddenly my lacrosse team's first string goalie after playing attack for years... shit's heavy, man. ANYWAY, enough of my rambling! I hope y'all enjoy <3

Tommy had been trying desperately to block out what had happened with the hole in the basement for days. He refused to go down even to the chest room- it was too close, just far too close to where he’d been forced to relive his worst memory.

He remembered in bits and pieces what it was like in his little hole; it was hard for him to differentiate between his first time down there, when he’d cut off his leg, and the second time, when his rotting limb had been laying on the ground beside him, festering in the cold air. He’d been scared and panicking both times, to be fair, and both times had been caused by Dream. 

It was always Dream.

But something confused him. With all of the gaps in his memory from that day, some pieces of the puzzle just weren’t… _fitting,_ like they should have been. He remembered distinctly that Techno had been the one to usher him down into the storage room after he’d heard Dream’s voice. He remembered the panicked look in his brother’s starkly red eyes, and the iron grip that had been fixed around his bicep, and then…

His memory had whited out for a few moments, and suddenly he was down in the second basement with Dream. And Dream had forced him back into that hole. Back where he’d almost let himself succumb to the pain and cold, begging for days that death would finally take him away from all of his suffering. It made no sense though; Dream told him to be quiet, to not make a sound at the risk of his family being killed, but why did he care so much? If he wanted Tommy dead anyway, why not just kill him? Why was he being tortured in ways he’d never imagined he’d have to go through again?

Where had Techno gone off to, in that small amount of blank space? How had Dream taken his place so quickly? While in the hole, Tommy thought without a doubt that he’d been killed: that his older brother had finally met his match, and was bleeding out on the floor in the storage room. He’d imagined that it was his punishment for leaving.

He’d laid shivering and nauseous in that hole for what felt like days, flashes of Dream and his sword lighting up behind his eyelids, and snippets of his cruel voice playing on repeat in his ears. Any semblance of the idea of Dream _somehow_ being his friend that was left after weeks of his family telling him otherwise was completely destroyed, leaving only hatred and fear in its wake. In the distance he felt like he heard voices, and at one point there were footsteps right on top of his head, pausing right over him. It was torture: he’d considered choking himself with some of the old bloody blankets he’d left down there just to end the pressure building in his head. 

And then light shone through where the bricks above him used to be. 

Tommy had kept his hand pressed to his mouth tightly, being as sure as he could that not even his shallow breathing could be heard. He couldn’t give Dream any reason to hurt Phil or Tubbo in the same way he’d probably hurt Technoblade, and had hurt Will in the past; he’d already caused enough pain to the people closest to him. He had another hole in his memory after the light shone down on him, and the next thing he could recall was a soft voice: _Phil’s_ soft voice, trying to coax some words out of him. It wasn’t until then did he notice the throbbing pain in his scalp, or the endless trembling in raw fingertips. His vision was blurry when his eyes opened, first meeting Phil’s worried expression, then quickly darting around the cold, nearly empty room to be sure that it was real, that Dream was gone.

He almost let out a cry of relief when he saw Techno, who was standing a little bit back, nervousness written clearly all over him. His brother was still alive, thank god, but there was definitely something wrong with him that Tommy didn’t have the ability to pick apart in that moment. He saw that Phil’s lips were moving, and for a moment so were Techno’s, but it took time for the ringing in his ears to quiet to the point where he could hear them.

_“You’re Techno.”_ Was the first thing he could remember saying; the rest wasn’t important. He’d apologized for everything: every sound of a breath, every moment that they’d been put in danger because of _him._ He was a liability to his family once again, in the same way he’d been a liability to Wilbur.

Since then, everyone in their little cottage had been on edge. Phil had been spending most of his time at Tommy’s side, fussing over him like he was some sort of helpless baby. It was somewhat annoying if he was being honest; he was a cripple for fuck’s sake, not a goddamn child. He’d had to insist many times that he was able to feed himself, and promise many more that he didn’t need to be coddled after every flashback: he was a man, and he could deal with it on his own. Still though, he let his dad fuss over him because he knew that he felt useless in the situation, and Phil Watson despised feeling useless. Tommy knew he was just getting out his guilt or some shit, and well… 

Sometimes it wasn’t so bad to have his dad playing with his hair in front of the fire again.

Techno was a different story, however. He’d seemingly been avoiding Tommy, which was kind of pissing him off a bit more than it should have been. They’d been getting on quite well since he’d been found originally, and he didn’t know what happened to change things between them. Tommy had even been gracious enough to push away his anger at his brother’s attempt at destroying L’Manburg, but it seemed like that meant nothing to Techno anymore. It must’ve been something that was missing from Tommy’s memory, because one minute he was rambling on to Techno about his hero Mexican Dream, and the next week his brother had announced that he was gonna be gone for a while to _‘get his head back on right.’_ When he returned a few days later, nothing had changed except for his hair being cut short and there being a new scar on his cheek. 

“Phil, I need to talk to you.” Techno had said after crashing through the door a week post his initial return, throwing his sword down on the dining room table in frustration. It startled Tommy, who’d been lying on the couch whittling a gift for Tubbo, into cutting a deep stripe in his finger, hissing at the pain. He turned to look over the back of the couch at his brother, a flicker of anger coursing through him.

“Techno, what the fuck-”

“Not now, Tommy.” Techno had cut him off bluntly, not even glancing in his direction. “I’d really appreciate some time with Dad, if you don’t mind.” Tommy frowned, looking down at the blood dripping down his thumb. He’d grumbled to himself while getting unsteadily to his feet to walk outside and get out of the way, still not totally competent on his prosthetic yet. Techno was such a fucking asshole sometimes.

Phil looked up from his book, shooting a glare at his oldest son, and an apologetic look to his youngest. He opened his mouth to defend Tommy, but the blonde waved him away.

“It’s fine, it’s fine, I can tell when I’m not wanted.” He said, wobbling his way over to the front door. He took his single-shouldered baby blue cape off the coat hook and draped it on, looking back for just a moment just to see Techno obviously waiting for him to get the fuck out, so he ducked out the door quickly with a scowl on his face and his sword in hand. He found himself wandering away from the cottage, tripping over his wooden leg in the deep snow. 

If Techno wanted to be a dick, fine, whatever. Maybe he’d finally gotten sick of Tommy taking up his supplies and taking dad’s precious attention away from him. Tommy shivered a bit as he reached the more shallow powder near the treeline, looking back at the silent cottage for a second before powering right through the branches and into a forest he’d never explored before. As much as he wanted to pretend that it didn’t sting every time Techno ignored him or shoved him aside, he couldn’t ignore the ache of hurt in his chest at the obvious hatred: it really fucking did hurt him, more than he’d thought possible.

The same goddamn thing had happened with Wilbur.

Blood continued to drip steadily from his thumb, leaving a sparse trail of red in the snow behind him. The day was overcast and bitterly cold, but that was pretty much the norm out on the tundra. Tommy supposed he could’ve just gone up a floor and continued his whittling in his bedroom, but then he’d probably be enticed to eavesdrop. Whatever Techno wanted to tell Phil was _obviously_ much too important for old useless little brother Tommy to know about.

He unsheathed his sword, using it to cut through the thick underbrush and low hanging spruce boughs that hung in his way. It was a fun way to get out his frustration, even when one overly aggressive swing had him tumbling face-first into the snow.

He didn’t get up. 

Tommy flipped over onto his back, eyes closed and face turned to the sky. He was so fucked up it was scary.

He thought he was getting better- no, he _knew_ he was getting better. Phil had told him so many times, especially before the whole, uh, _visit_ that had gone down. He was able to stay in the present, and the phantom burning sensation from the explosions in Logsteadshire had been appearing less and less. The nightmares were still a nightly occurrence, but at least he wasn’t waking up Techno or Phil with his screams and making them spend far too long trying to coax him back to reality. He was proud of himself for finally allowing himself to cope, but of course that couldn’t last:

Dream had sent him spiraling once again.

Endless panic attacks that would leave him with a closed throat, hours where he’d refuse to speak, hands clamped back over his mouth as if he was still down in the basement, staying quiet even as Phil attempted to peel his fingers away, eyes wide with panic. He’d been getting phantom pains in the stub of his leg; sometimes they were so agonizing that he’d rip off his prosthetic and beg his father to put him out of his misery. Techno always kept his distance, fetching things when Phil asked, but never getting too close. Bastard.

The wind blew through the forest, tickling the tip of Tommy’s nose enough to make him sneeze. He settled back into the snow, the cold harsh on every bit of exposed skin. He found himself welcoming the prick of the frozen water, just as he had the day of his escape so long ago. He’d found a home with Techno and Phil those past few months, but it seemed lately that he was losing his family once again. The silence of the forest was peaceful for a while, nothing to disturb him except for his fucked up thoughts and the occasional stray dog or fox running through the bushes.

“Hello?” A voice hit Tommy’s ears- far enough to be difficult to discern, but close enough to be a threat. The blonde stiffened, his breathing picking up exponentially. That wasn’t Phil, and there was no way in hell it was Techno:

Someone had found him.

_‘Shit, shit, SHIT!’_ He screamed in his mind. He had nowhere to go, and absolutely no plan. He should’ve just fucking gone upstairs and pouted, but no, he had to be angsty and go out in the woods _alone_ when he knew Dream was out there trying to hurt him.

“Is someone there? I heard a sneeze; I promise I’m not gonna do anything bad.” The voice said, closer that time. Tommy was a sitting duck, his patchy blonde hair sticking out against the stark white like a sore thumb. He had no choice but to just stay still. “I can see footprints, and _blood?”_ Tommy glanced down to where his thumb had finally stopped bleeding due to the cold, but the damage had already been done. The voice had sounded strikingly familiar, and also quite worried towards the end of the phrase. “I can help you, whoever you are! I promise-” Tommy had to make a choice- he could hear the person’s footsteps drawing closer, and there was no way he’d be able to fend someone off from the ground. 

He furrowed his brows, took a deep breath, and in a flash began getting to his feet, sword still in hand from when he’d been cutting away branches. Be big, be loud, and be _intimidating-_ that was his fucking brand.

“Fuck you, motherfu-” Tommy yelled as he sprung forward. Unfortunately for him, he’d turned too quickly, his prosthetic getting caught in the snowdrift he’d created and his momentum sending him barrelling forward into the arms of whoever had stumbled upon him. His cheeks reddened with embarrassment- he’d really lost his terrifying touch- but when he looked up to push away from whoever the person was, he found himself unable to move with the breath caught in his throat.

Blue eyes met a pair of red and green ones, wide with surprise and half covered by split- black and white bangs.

“Ranboo?” The name left his mouth in an unbelieving whisper, heart racing a million miles per hour. The enderman hybrid stared down at him for a few moments in shock, before finally finding his voice.

“I- Tommy?” Ranboo’s tone was soft, and after Tommy got out of his arms he still reached out a hand hesitantly, brushing his fingers over his lost friend’s shoulder as if to confirm to himself that what he was seeing was real. “Dream… he told us you were dead.” He obviously didn’t know that the green man wasn’t particularly _trustworthy._ At the mention of Dream’s name, Tommy’s breathing started to pick up again, a hand climbing to clutch at his chest over a rapidly beating heart.

_‘No, not the time not the TIME!’_ He dropped backwards, landing roughly on his ass in the snow and wrapping his arms around his knees. Phil was always able to calm him down before the visions started, but Phil _wasn’t there,_ and if the visions started before he could get them under control, he’d be stuck in a nightmarish reality for hours _._ He felt Ranboo on his knees beside him, and heard the echoey sound of the taller boy asking panickedly what was wrong and how he could help. Tommy closed his eyes and focussed on his breathing: he pretended that Phil’s hands were on his shoulders, and one of his wings was wrapped securely around his back. He tried to remember what his dad always repeated to him gently whenever he found himself falling back into the past.

_‘You’re real. Ranboo is real. You’re in the forest. You’re free._

_Dream can’t hurt you._

_Dream can’t hurt you._

_Dream can’t hurt you.’_

“Tommy!” Ranboo’s voice cut through the ringing, and Tommy’s eyes snapped open. His friend looked ready to cry, and absolutely terrified out of his mind. He took a few moments to collect himself, blinking slowly and repeating positive thoughts to himself to get his brain working again.

“I’m here, we- we’re good.” Tommy stuttered out. His hands were shaking and his cheeks felt suspiciously damp, but he was in reality. Ranboo slumped back on his heels, bringing a hand up to comb through his hair whilst letting out a stressed laugh.

“What was that?” He asked. Tommy looked at his knees, picking at a stray thread on his pants to avoid looking in Ranboo’s scarily intense eyes. Normally he didn’t mind it, but it was pretty easy to see that his mind wasn’t in the best state.

“Just don’t mention that name. Please.” He asked. Ranboo nodded quickly and unquestioningly, netherite helmet shaking on his head.

The forest was beginning to darken, and was serenely quiet. It was almost unsettling, but there wasn’t much that could make him feel more terrified than he already did every other day of his life. Ranboo himself let out a comforting aura; it was one of the things that had drawn Tommy to the guy in the first place. After all of the chaos that had been reigning over his life since Wilbur’s death, he thought that Ranboo would be good for him, especially because Tubbo… well, Tubbo was busy running a country and all that shit.

Somehow he’d found a way to corrupt even the kindest of souls.

George’s house had burned with them inside, and it all spiraled down further and further until they reached the point where they were in that moment, with Tommy recovering from a brief panic attack, and Ranboo coming to terms with the fact that his friend who he’d attended the funeral of wasn’t actually dead.

“So… you’re alive. And you’re out in the woods.” Ranboo started carefully, head cocked to the side. Tommy let out a breathy chuckle, relaxing his legs into a criss-cross pattern.

“I’m most definitely both of those things.” He replied. Ranboo continued to look him over curiously, until his sights inevitably locked on the bit of wood exposed by a rolled up pant-leg.

“Uh-” Tommy followed his eyeline to the prosthetic, rolling up his pants until most of the wood was exposed.

“Frostbite’s a bitch, ain’t it? One day I have a leg, and the next-” He made a cutting motion across his throat, and the taller seemed to get the idea.

“I mean I can see that, and well, I’m very sorry for that, don’t get me wrong…” Ranboo looked at him with a disgusting level of care and concern in his eyes. It almost made Tommy nauseous with how much that expression reminded him of Techno that first day he’d woken up. “If you don’t mind me asking, how are you even still alive? Last time I saw you in-”

“Don’t say it.” Tommy warned. The words died in Ranboo’s throat, but still he continued on.

“Last time I saw you I thought you were going to drop dead at a gust of wind, man.” The wind blew once again as if to prove a point, rustling the spruce branches and adding white noise to the silence that stretched between the two. “I begged Tubbo to bring you home but he said that he couldn’t. And that’s why I didn’t even question your death when, when _he_ announced to everyone that you had jumped. That’s why I didn’t come looking for you.”

“So is that what everyone thinks?” Tommy muttered. Ranboo nodded slowly, a shiver wracking through his body. 

“We had a funeral for you and everything. Everyone cried, but I think Tubbo took it the hardest.” Tommy’s heart ached at the thought of it. His best friend- ex best friend?- his _Tubbo,_ crying over an empty grave, unknowing that he was alive, but just too fucked up and _scared_ to return. “I heard Niki saying she’d tried to send Phil an invite, but it had just come back unopened. The last time he’d been in L’Manburg was a month or two ago, but he’d disappeared quickly after. I wasn’t even around.” 

“This is so fucked up.” Tommy breathed, a hand coming to grip his hair. He brought his gaze to meet Ranboo’s once again, tears forming in his eyes. “I’m alive! I’m here, but… I can’t let them know. They _can’t_ know.” He insisted.

“Wha- why not? Do you know how happy it would make Tubbo? Not to mention Niki and Quackity: everyone misses you so much. God when I came out looking for mineshafts I didn’t expect to find something like this.” Ranboo said, a smile on his lips.

Tommy knew what it would mean for his living status to get out into L’Manburg, outside the confines of Phil and Techno’s hideaway. It would put everyone he cared about at Dream’s mercy, and he just couldn’t justify putting anyone in that position again. He couldn’t handle the guilt of his friends going through what Phil and Techno had been through for him just two weeks prior: for fuck’s sake, he thought Techno had been fucking killed! Any time Tommy allowed someone to get close to him, it always ended in disaster.

First Wilbur had gone crazy and begged their dad to kill him after blowing up the country they’d built, then Tubbo had turned on him and thrown him out into exile, and now Techno obviously had something against him as well: allowing himself to get close to people wasn’t worth the pain.

He looked to Ranboo in front of him, drawing little pictures in the snow with a gentle smile on his face. He didn’t need to be caught up in all of Tommy’s bullshit.

“I can’t risk our favorite green man coming to use my body as a sword fighting dummy. If he finds out where I am, it’s game over.” Tommy joked, getting to his feet. His clothes were heavy with melted snow, but he found that he didn’t quite care about it. Ranboo followed his lead, netherite armor protecting his skin from water that Tommy knew burned him.

“What if I just told Tubbo? That has to be-”

“Ranboo, I’m serious. You can’t tell a single person that you saw me.” The smile melted from the hybrid’s face, turning into something much more subdued and serious. 

“Okay. Alright, I can do that.” Ranboo took out a weathered leather book that Tommy immediately recognized as his memory journal. The blonde threw his hand forward, stopping the quill from hitting the paper below it. His mind was screaming at him, arms tense with stress.

“You need to forget you saw me.” Ranboo stepped away, the quill paused in his hand. He looked confused, and almost hurt. “If, if _he_ even _suspects_ that you know where I am, you’ll be tortured, and maybe even killed. I can’t have that on my conscience.” Tommy explained.

“But he doesn’t even know-” 

“Yes, he does. Trust me.” Tommy said, willing the teenager in front of him to believe him. He couldn’t risk revealing anything about Techno and Phil- if somehow Ranboo remembered what happened that day, he’d be putting them in even more danger. Ranboo sighed, closing the book and holding it tightly in one hand.

“Fine.” Tommy’s shoulders relaxed, and he let out an anxious breath.

“Thank you, Ranboo.” The taller smiled down at him for a moment, but as soon as it happened his eyes shot up, darting around quickly.

“Someone’s coming.” He whisper shouted. “I-I have to go, I’m glad I could see you Tommy, seriously I am. Stay safe.” Ranboo said, and then, as Tommy had never seen before, the guy disappeared in a haze of purple. 

“Sick.” He whispered under his breath, and not a moment later the sound of hurried footsteps reached his own ears. The blonde whipped around, picking up his sword from where it’d been discarded on the ground and holding it up menacingly, breathing hard and trying to clear his mind enough to be battle ready. He’d just learned a fucking lot, and he was still trying to process it. His chest rose and fell quickly as his eyes skirted the darkness before him, looking for any signs of motion in the spruce branches.

A body suddenly burst through the trees, knocking the teenager over. Fuck, how many times was he going to land on his ass in the snow that day?

“Who’s there?” The voice of _whoever_ the fuck had knocked him over snarled, and when Tommy finally regained his composure he realized that the person to knock him to the ground was none other than his dickhead older brother.

“It’s just me, asshole.” Tommy groaned. Techno, once again, didn’t even look at him; his eyes simply scanned the trees in the lowering light, face bathed in the soft glow of his enchanted diamond sword. Tommy ran a finger over the edge of his sword in annoyance. “Oi dickhead, it’s literally only me out here having a little pity party by myself. The one time I _don’t_ invite someone to a party, of course you crash it.” He grumbled.

“I heard you talking to someone.” Techno’s voice rumbled out of his mouth, and the protectiveness in it made Tommy himself curl in on himself a little bit. 

“I was talking to myself. I’m just crazy, you know me.” 

“There are footsteps in the snow. I followed a trail of your blood to find you.” Techno pointed out, finally lowering his sword to crouch beside his little brother, hesitating for a moment before reaching out to touch him. “What’s hurting?” The care in his voice made Tommy roll his eyes, pulling away from his brother’s touch. 

“I nicked my finger when you slammed the door open and kicked me out. I was making a gift for Tubbo.” He explained. A shiver wracked through his body as night began to kick in, and once again Tommy found himself wrapped in Techno’s stupid cape.

“Still doesn’t explain the footsteps-” Techno’s ear flicked to the side at the sound of a snapping branch, but other than that his attention was locked elsewhere.

“I fought a zombie, okay? That’s literally all it was. I stabbed it clean through the head, the body went poof like the weird enchanted ones do, end of story.” The older looked unconvinced as he stood back to his full height, easily scooping the bundled-up teenager into his arms with, again, a bit of hesitation. “Wha- fucking put me down!” Tommy yelled, face heating up with embarrassment.

“You’re a little lying crippled brat, you know.” Techno said through clenched teeth. Even though Tommy was in the man’s arms, he could feel the way that Techno was _still_ trying to put space between their bodies, as if touching his little brother suddenly disgusted him. “You run off at dusk when you _know_ Phil worries himself sick about you getting yourself killed.”

“Well maybe you shouldn’t have fucking kicked me out!” Tommy argued back, shifting in the strong arms holding him up. Techno let out an annoyed noise, a frown visibly set on his lips, stretching out his new scar awkwardly.

“It’s my house, gremlin.” He responded, an obvious tiredness in his tone. Of course he was sick of Tommy.

“And you’re a massive fucking cunt, Techno.” He grumbled, resigning himself to the situation and crossing his arms over his chest. His attitude quickly deflated as they made their way back to the cottage; Techno was only able to see due to his advanced eyesight, so Tommy, as usual, was stuck in the dark. His brain replayed his conversation with Ranboo over and over again, already missing the company of his friend. He prayed to whatever god was listening that his black-and-white haired confidant would completely forget the encounter, no matter how much Tommy wished he could’ve invited him to stay. It was just too dangerous.

Techno didn’t respond to his attempts at conversation so he just gave up, simply keeping his eyes forward until the clearing became visible in the distance; a little pinprick of light standing out from all the darkness. Tommy listened to his brother’s labored breathing for a few moments, focussing on the rhythm of it. “What did I do, Tech?” The softness of Tommy’s voice surprised himself: even more than that, it surprised his brother into pausing their forward progress. “I-I don’t remember much from that day, but I have this gap in my memory after you pulled me into the storage room.” He admitted. Techno nodded in acknowledgement, continuing to walk towards the house. “You were you, and then suddenly you were gone, and _he-”_ Tommy had been improving at saying Dream’s name, but still avoided it when possible just in case. “he made me go back down there. And I don’t know what I did to make you hate me, but I’m sorry.” 

He hated the tears that filled his eyes, and despised the ones that rolled down his cheeks even more. He hated Dream, and he hated war, and he hated Wilbur, and he hated that his goddamn discs were still in the hands of a tyrant. When Schlatt died, that should've been the end of it. He’d just wanted peace, but of course he couldn’t have it.

He’d fucked it up for himself.

And now, somehow, he’d fucked up his relationship with his only surviving brother as well.

“I don’t hate you, Tommy.” Techno said simply as they approached the porch where their father sat in his rocking chair, wings folded carefully behind him. Tommy noted his steadfast refusal to even glance down at his face, heart tightening as a few more tears slipped down his cheeks. Ignored, once again.

At the sight of his returning sons, Phil hurried to the edge of the deck; he immediately began fussing over Tommy the second he was within arms reach, asking where he’d been bleeding and why he’d wandered off so far, as if he hadn’t fought in several wars and lost a limb already. He’d wiped the tears from his youngest son’s cheeks with concern, tipping back his blue and white bucket hat to get a better view of the boy in front of him, wrapped safely in Techno’s arms.

As soon as he’d been able to set Tommy down on the floorboards Techno had backed away, watching from afar as his cape swamped his skinny brother while he was ushered into the warmth of the house by a doting father. Tommy turned to look at him for a moment, before crossing the threshold, confusion washing over him as he made out an emotion on the hybrid’s face that he hadn’t seen in years:

Guilt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooo here we go! Techno guilt Techno guilt!! Poor boys, oh dear. You know what? It's good plot. For more "basement" content, MCYT content, and other fic updates and sneak peeks, follow me on twitter @azkaabanter, we have a lot of fun over there :) Thank you for reading, and I promise that if you leave a comment it'll get the next chapter out a whole lot faster. That's my main source of drive lmao. ANYWAY I LOVE Y'ALL!!


	5. Compass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday everyone! Here we are- another chapter into this fic that was originally an angsty oneshot. I'm so, so glad that I decided to continue with it, I mean- fuck, thank you for 15k hits! I love you all so much, and I'm so happy that I can provide you with that good old fashioned SBI pain. However, I do want to make it clear that this story will, for the most part, NOT BE FOLLOWING CANON. I'm sure you probably already guessed that, but I just wanted to clarify to be sure. Thank you all so much for reading!!! And, a huge thank you to @TheLittleStar_tm who spent like an hour on call with me while I worked on making sure the plot worked because, again, this was supposed to be a oneshot. YOU ROCK AND I LOVE YOU!!

Phil closed the door to Tommy’s room with a gentle _‘click.’_ He left a hand pressed against the wood for a second, letting the solidity ground him for a moment as his chest rose and fell. His shoulders hadn’t lost any of the tension that they’d been carrying since him and Techno realized that Tommy wasn’t just sulking on the front porch or near the bee farm. He’d gone into total panic mode at the realization- not just because Tommy was missing, but also because of the information Techno had divulged to him. He was so shaken up, in fact, that his oldest son had refused to let him help look for Tommy at all. He’d sat back on the porch, swallowing down his bile and trying not to wrap himself up in the thousands of bad scenarios that had started to race through his mind.

_‘Had Dream already come back for revenge on Techno? Was Tommy just that easy to pick off? What if Punz found him, what if he’d fallen and hurt himself in the woods?’_ The intrusive thoughts had his feathers slightly raised and his back stinging from the tenseness of his shoulder blades. He couldn’t lose Tommy. He couldn’t handle it.

The relief that flowed through Phil’s body when Techno came into view with Tommy in his arms was unfathomable. He felt like he could burst into tears; honestly, he almost did. But even through that haze of joy and relief, he couldn’t ignore the obvious tension between his sons. He knew that Techno felt the full weight of Tommy’s trauma on his shoulders after the Dream incident and had been distancing himself from his brother, but that was the first time that Phil noticed the bitterness flowing off of his youngest in waves. He’d felt it most prominently when Tommy had basically thrown Techno’s cloak back at him, face red with eyes filled by unshed tears especially-

He knew something bad was going to happen if he didn’t do something to fix it.

“Techno.” Phil said at a whisper once he’d taken a few steps from the door, brows drawn together and arms crossed over his chest. Techno continued to walk away from Tommy’s room and towards the staircase, ignoring Phil’s clear anger. _“Techno!”_ He hissed, wings drawing up threateningly in the way they only did when he was _really_ pissed off. Techno stopped in his tracks, turning his head to the side just enough for his father to see a peek of a crimson eye and the curve of his nose.

“Hm? Oh I’m sorry, were you talking to me?” He asked, forcing a casualness into his voice that Phil was well aware of being fake. The older hybrid sighed, untensing his wings to walk to his son’s side and lean lightly against the wall, eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah, I fucking was.” Phil glanced down the hallway towards Tommy’s door. “Come downstairs. We need to talk.” Techno narrowed his eyes and turned away.

“We’ve talked enough today, haven’t we? I’d rather get some sleep if you don’t mind-“

“I do mind.” Phil snapped. Techno instantly shrank up a bit, slowly coming to face his father again. No one scared Technoblade. Not Dream, not the Enderdragon, not even Herobrine. Techno towered over him; with his big muscles and royal regalia he looked almost godlike. Most regarded him as an unstoppable force of chaos and anarchy, (which he took much pride in,) but Phil knew better. He’d seen Techno cry from a scraped knee, and lay in bed with some stupid childhood sickness. He’d seen Wilbur come running to report that his older brother accidentally hurt himself during training, and seen the proud grin on his face when Tommy had called him by his name for the first time.

Philza knew that he was the one thing on the planet that his oldest found to be terrifying, because Phil had seen him at his worst, and knew his every weakness.

He tried to soften up a little bit, despite the frustration festering inside of him. He hated yelling at people he cared about- hell, he hated yelling at all in most situations. Techno took a slow breath, cracking his knuckles to diffuse some of his discomfort.

“Phil-“

“Downstairs, Technoblade.” He said tiredly, allowing a grimace of a smile to cross his lips. After a moment of hesitation, Techno complied; he made his way quietly down into the living room, not uttering an audible word. After one more quick look to Tommy’s closed door, Phil followed.

Techno sat gingerly on the couch while his father took to the kitchen, taking out the kettle and filling it with water as if he was in no rush at all. Really, he was just trying to take time to collect his thoughts so that he wouldn’t explode or break down, but Techno didn’t need to know that. He pushed blonde hair out of his eyes with a forearm, bucket hat discarded in Tommy’s room so that the boy would have something to ground him if he woke up mid panic attack. He hummed while taking out the tea leaves, and shivered a bit; he’d have to find whichever window was drafty the next morning. Techno’s presence was heavy in the atmosphere, his thoughts and stresses almost tangible enough to make Phil want to draw his sword and fend them off.

Every time his eyes wandered into the open, adjacent room, he could easily make out the bubbling cauldron of emotions stewing inside of his son’s head. 

Techno sat perched on the edge of the couch instead of allowing his tired body to sink into the softness of the pillows as he usually would after a stressful day. His sight line was continually flickering between the front door, the stairs to the second floor, and Phil himself, as if Dream was going to suddenly materialize in front of him again. Phil also couldn’t help but notice, while he was pouring the now boiling water into a pair of simple white mugs, that Techno kept bringing up his fingers to play with the choppy ends of his hair, twisting the strands so much that they almost formed short ringlets.

The guilt was obviously eating him alive.

The winged hybrid walked softly across the hardwood floor onto the living room carpet, a mug of green tea offered out in his son’s direction with a kind smile. Techno warily looked between his father and the steaming mug, as if he’d laced the drink with some sort of _‘tell Tommy the truth’_ potion. Eventually he took it though, and Phil felt a slight warmth in his heart at the way his son relaxed the tiniest bit at the first sip.

“You need to talk to him.” Phil said abruptly, sitting down on the plush couch next to Techno. The anger was still present, mixed with the ever churning worry in his gut: it was an absolutely deadly concoction- not that it could kill him itself, but in the right conditions, it could lead him to making some very poor choices. Techno paused in his next sip of tea, bringing the mug away from his lips again to be held in his lap. 

“I can’t just tell him the truth.” He stared into his mug; Phil knew from experience that there were no answers to unsolved mysteries to be discovered in that green tea. 

“C’mon: he’s your _brother,_ he won’t-“ Phil started kindly, putting a hand on his son’s shoulder before he was promptly cut off.

“He’ll hate me forever. He will- I’m already on thin ice with him from spawning those Withers, and you know, that ice has probably been cracked for a while simply because _I don’t regret doing it.”_ He said. His father stayed silent, brows drawing together while simply offering the small amount of comfort a strong hand on the shoulder could provide. Techno pressed his lips into a hard line. “I went after Dream to give Tommy a chance at revenge; if I hurt him enough to the point where there’s no possible way Tommy won’t land a killing blow, then maybe… maybe he’ll be able to look past the whole _‘I forced you to relive your trauma and also destroyed the legacy of your brother’_ thing. He’ll have his discs and his revenge, and I’ll have my little brother and no government. It’s a win win.” Phil scoffed, bringing his free hand up to slip over his face and into his hair in disbelief.

“That all rides on you actually being able to _beat_ Dream.” He pointed out. Techno narrowed his crimson eyes, opening his mouth to form a rebuttal, only to be interrupted. “You also seem to forget that you’re actively pushing Tommy away.” Phil remarked. “That’s why he’s angry at you right now- he wouldn’t have a _clue_ that anything was wrong if you just acted normal.” He let Techno digest that for a moment.

“I- you know I’m not the best at handling guilt.”

“That’s because you’re never guilty.” Phil’s voice was soft, supportive. Techno stayed quiet, body regaining the minute tenseness it had lost. ”You can’t go after Dream again. Not alone.” The winged hybrid decided, sternly. The crackling of the fire broke up the tense silence just enough to make it bearable. Techno shifted in his seat, impatience obviously beginning to get to him.

“Then come with me-“ He said, frustration clear in his posture and tone.

“I don’t have a death wish!” Phil snapped. “I have _one life-_ I’m not going to take a chance on a faulty plan for some un-thought out petty revenge. I won’t risk the opportunity to raise Tommy and try to fix my mistakes on _this.”_ Techno’s ears flattened back against his head, hands drawing into fists as they rested in his lap.

“It’s not _petty revenge;”_ He spoke through clenched teeth. “-that motherfucker physically and mentally abused him. He made him cut off his own leg, the mention of his name sends Tommy into a breakdown-“ Phil shook his head as Techno continued to explain himself. “I only lost because my head was clouded- I was out of my prime, just… overcome with anger, and, and _guilt-“_

“You shouldn’t have gone to fight Dream on your own; he didn’t even know Tommy was alive-” Phil argued. Techno barked out a short, sarcastic laugh that left a frown on his father’s firelit expression.

“He definitely knew- A man who doesn’t have what he came for doesn’t just _leave_ without a totem of undying, saying that he _‘got what he wanted.’”_ Techno pointed out. “I was being proactive and I thought I could get the jump on him. I was wrong.” He shrugged nonchalantly, like it was no big deal that he’d almost lost a life to the most powerful being on the server rather than being his normal self and consulting Phil to make a plan. This wasn’t _his Techno-_ his Techno never went into a fight that he wasn’t sure could win, and more than that, he never went in without a strategy. Phil observed his son’s body language: the way that he suddenly started showing subtle signs of discomfort was throwing him off. He refused to meet his father’s eyes, and continued to rub his pointer finger and thumb together in the way he used to do when he was caught lying as a child. 

There was definitely something that Techno wasn’t telling him.

“You can’t keep going after him- last time he cut your hair and your face, next time he might cut off your _head-”_ Techno took another sip of his tea, as if the idea didn’t phase him in the slightest.

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take.” Phil blanched. There was no fucking _way-_

“But why? Why are you willing to take that risk?” Phil pressed. His mug was left forgotten on the side table, his hands clenching around his kneecaps.

“I’ve already lost a brother, Phil!” Techno said fairly loudly. His eyes widened and he instantly went quiet, ears flicking up towards the ceiling to be sure that Tommy hadn’t woken up from the volume. He took a slow breath. “I’m not losing another one.” He continued, much more softly.

“Every minute you push Tommy away, the more likely he is to resent you. We both know that that kid holds grudges for life.” Phil said. Techno nodded, the serious expression returning. “I thought you said we should wait? Make sure Tommy is battle ready and mentally capable of doing something like this.”

“I’ve obviously changed my mind” Techno stated simply.

“We were finally living peacefully.” The older muttered. “If Dream hadn’t come here, if he had just let Tommy go, none of this would’ve happened. He’s still in exile, for fuck’s sake! Why does that bastard even care?” Techno’s expression softened at his father being so upset, but it was obvious that he wasn’t going to let up on his stance.

“Quiet isn’t always peace, Phil. We can fight back against Dream, against L’Manburg, against _everyone who ever wronged us.”_ Techno sounded strained. “Anarchy is the answer! This retirement? It was nice for a while, not gonna lie, but in this retirement we’ve let the disease of government fester and infect, the power corrupting everyone it touches. We’ve left people to suffer. We left Tommy to suffer traumas he shouldn’t ever have known.” He said. “All of this circles back to government; back to L’Manburg. It needs to be razed.”

“Please don’t let your little brother just be a stepping stone in your plan to destroy New L’Manburg.” Phil said. “I’m on your side here, Tech. I want it gone too, but you can’t use Tommy as an excuse.” Techno stared at his father for a moment, silently thinking.

“Fine. Then I’ll just Dream as the excuse.” Techno got to his feet, dusting off his pants. Phil opened his mouth to argue, but closed it soon after. It was obvious that Techno wouldn’t be talking about it anymore, especially when he took his own mostly full mug of tea to the kitchen. He came back a minute later, arms stretched over his head as he let out a yawn. “I’m gonna get some sleep, and I really think you could use some too.” Phil nodded slowly, standing up and cracking his neck. 

Without speaking, they both climbed up to the second floor, the silence long, but not necessarily uncomfortable. 

“I love you, dad. I do. And I care about your opinion a lot-” Techno said as they reached his door. “-but I have to get Dream to Tommy. I can’t live with another one of my brothers hating me, and if this is what I have to do for forgiveness, then I’ll do it.”

“And what about when you destroy New L’Manburg, hm? How will you get Tommy to forgive you for that one?” Techno stared at his father for a moment, then turned on his heel into a now open doorway.

“Goodnight, Phil.” He said gruffly.

Phil watched the door to Techno’s room close softly, his eyes not leaving the worn wood for several long moments after. He tried to digest their conversation- their _argument-_ but found that thinking about it only succeeded in making his head swim and his heart hurt. He turned away with a long sigh, and made his way to his own bedroom slowly, feeling the cold of the wood under his feet.

A hand rested on the doorknob of the room across from Tommy’s, considering entering but hesitating. Phil drew his hand away and turned, quietly taking a few steps over to his youngest son’s room. With bated breath, he opened the door just a crack, looking inside.

The room was dark, only a little bit of light flitting through the thick-glassed window opposite to him. Phil felt an unnecessary flood of relief when he saw Tommy sprawled out on his bed, the shape of the prosthetic thrown on the floor beside it standing out, even in the low light provided by the hallway and window. One of Tommy’s hands was splayed out so that it hung over the side of the bed, something glowing in his grasp. Phil cocked his head to the side, biting his lip and looking around.

_Should he?_

The curiosity overtook him, and quiet as a mouse, Phil made his way to his son’s side to see whatever object was trapped in his grasp. Tommy let out a loud snore that almost made the man jump, but he thankfully was able to resist the urge. He got to his knees, looking closely at the loose grip his son had on a- compass?

Phil’s brows furrowed as he continued to look at it, trying to get different angles. Why was Tommy sleeping with an enchanted compass in his hand? 

It was too dark to make out any of the details other than a long leather loop coming out the top to act as a necklace chain, so Phil made his way out of the room once again, shutting the door behind him and going into his own. He got undressed slowly, wings drooping behind him. It was going to be a long, long few months.

* * *

Phil awoke early the next morning, bags prominent under his eyes. To say that he slept like shit would’ve been the understatement of the century; his feathers were fucked up, his jaw was sore from clenching his teeth, and there was a knot in his shoulder that was fucking up mobility in his left arm.

He clambered down the stairs, muttering to himself with every step forward he took. The sun shone through the window; a rare sight. Phil greeted Techno, who was sitting in an armchair with a book in hand, with a kind smile: a sign of truce from their conversation the night before. Techno responded back with a simple nod before returning his sights to the book he was reading. Phil didn’t recognize the cover, but it was probably just one of the enchanting guides or history books that Techno had scattered throughout the place.

The sky outside was a brilliant, cloudless blue, reflecting off of the snow so brightly that the hybrid knew he wouldn’t be able to get any work done outside until evening, at best. He didn’t mind it too much, though: a day inside with no way to have a heart attack sounded like the exact thing he needed.

“There’s some coffee on the stove.” Techno’s voice was still rough with sleep, but when Phil looked at him again he had the tiniest whisper of a smile on his face, even if he didn’t look up from his book. “I just made a little too much.”

“Thanks, Tech.” The blonde man said, going immediately to pour himself a mug.

Phil noticed when walking in that all of the plants had been watered, and the cups they’d used the night before that he’d left in the sink were now clean and drying on the rack. It was the little things that his oldest son did that let him know that he loved his father.

The house was quiet for a while longer while father and son sat together near the fire, no words exchanged but plenty of them filling the silence in the form of thoughts and questions. Neither wanted to bring up what had happened the previous night, and Phil was especially thankful for it. He was tired, and just one day to pull himself together was all he needed. Soon enough, though, that quiet was interrupted.

Phil and Techno both looked up when they heard the loud, off beat _‘thunk, thunk, thunk,’_ of Tommy’s prosthetic hitting the floor of the upstairs hallway, and light curses when there was an especially loud sound of _something_ hitting the floor. Techno rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to the pages of his book as his younger brother descended, obviously trying to fight back the urge to up and leave the room. Tommy stepped away from the stairs with a yawn, stretching first then reaching up with the palm of his hand to rub the sleep from his eyes.

“Morning fuckers.” He grumbled, wandering into the kitchen to presumably do a little raccoon scrounging for food.

“Welcome back to the land of the living.” Phil called from his seat. “I’ve never heard you snore louder than you did last night. I thought there was a fucking ravager in your room.” Techno snorted out a laugh.

“Big men snore loud.” Tommy responded, his voice accompanied by the clinking of containers in the ice box and the slamming of drawers and cabinets.

“Big men also apparently leave a mess everywhere they go.” Phil quipped as his youngest dropped a box on the floor while he walked into the room. He sipped on his coffee while Tommy got himself situated, an entire loaf of bread in hand along with a tub of butter. “A healthy breakfast, I see.”

“I’m a growing boy who almost starved to death three months ago, give me a break, old man.” Tommy took a bite out of the loaf, crumbs spewing out of his mouth as he spoke.

“You’re disgusting.” Techno said. Tommy narrowed his eyes, taking another bite.

“You’re a bitch boy.” Techno shrugged his shoulders, not even looking up. Phil frowned at the way Tommy seemed to deflate at being ignored, quietly swiping the bread through the butter to eat more.

“So… any plans for today?” The silence was fairly awkward, with Techno knowing how Phil felt about him distancing himself.

“I’m gonna go find some dogs, maybe get a hunt in.” The pink-haired hybrid said offhandedly. 

“It’s so bright out there though, you won’t be able to see anything-” Phil pointed out. Techno sighed and closed his book, meeting his father’s eyes. 

“I cannot find it in myself to care, gonna be honest.” He drawled. “The trees’ll disperse the light. We need to get food while it’s not snowing, just in case.” His boots were loud against the floor as he got to his feet, leaving the book on the end table. Phil went to reply, but stopped just as his voice began to leave his lips.

There was a soft knocking coming from the door: Techno and Phil locked eyes, the former nodding towards the wall, where he sword was leaning against the wood. Without a word, the two split off quietly in different directions, feet so practiced in stealth that the floor didn’t even creak. Phil gently grabbed Tommy by the arm, leading him immediately into the kitchen at a crouch, bringing a finger to his lips to make sure that the kid stayed quiet. At the gesture, the blonde boy’s lips closed and pressed into a tight line, seriousness taking over his features. 

He ducked down under the countertop, chest rising and falling quickly in obvious fear, wide blue eyes locked on his father’s. It was clear who he thought was outside the door, and Phil couldn’t help but fear the exact same thing. He kneeled down next to Tommy, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder and listening hard, one hand resting on the dagger that was secured in his belt. He heard the door open with a loud _‘creak,’_ poised to strike out at a moment’s notice.

“I told you not to come- Ghostbur?” Techno’s voice immediately changed from hostile to confused. Phil’s heart leapt a little bit at the words, offering Tommy a reassuring smile and a hand to help his son stand up again.

“Hi Techno!” Ghostbur’s floaty voice drifted into the room, Tommy’s eyes almost immediately beginning to deglaze at the sound, forcing him back into reality and staving off a flashback. “Who were you telling not to come? I hope it was Dream, he was quite mean to Tommy.” He said, Phil watching Ghostbur wander into the house from where he stood next to Tommy still in the kitchen. Phil stiffened at the mention of the name; his eyes instantly moved to fall on his youngest son, but found that he had no need to worry: Tommy was smiling brightly, hobbling back into the living room. 

He walked past Techno without a second glance, and Techno in turn took an obvious step back. Phil sighed; things obviously weren’t going to be solved by one conversation.

“Hello Tommy!” Ghostbur said cheerfully, waving to his younger brother as the blonde sauntered into the room. “Wow, there is remarkably less of you now than when I saw you last. That’s peculiar, isn’t it?” Tommy cocked his head to the side, pulling up his pant leg.

“I mean shit, you aren’t wrong.” He said. “How the hell did you know that, though? I’m wearing long pants and a prosthetic.” The ghost merely shrugged, strolling around the house unbothered.

“You’re Tommy, wood is wood. Wood and Tommy don’t mix, therefore I knew you were missing something.” Phil and Techno shared an unamused look, but Tommy nodded along respectfully, as if his dead brother had just offered a new piece of Philosophy to the universe.

“Cheers to that one.” 

“It’s nice to see you again, Ghostbur.” Phil said warmly, though his heart felt like it was melting. No matter how much Ghostur looked like him and sounded like him, in the end it wasn’t him. It wasn’t Wilbur.

“It’s wonderful to see you too, Philza! It’s cold out here, you know. The snow hurts a bit when it touches me, but that’s alright.” Ghostbur rambled.

“The snow hurts you?” Techno questioned, eyebrow raised. His dead brother nodded dopily in response, the toothy smile never leaving his face. Phil felt Tommy shift next to him a bit in discomfort.

“Only a sting- it’s the rain that really burns. I try to stay out of that.” He explained, though didn’t seem to see exactly how much that unsettled everyone else in the room. He just walked around, his grey skin contrasting with the warm tones of the furniture, yellow sweater fitting in perfectly.

“Please do steer clear of rain if you can.” Tommy said. Ghostbur nodded in recognition, but Phil wondered if he actually took in anything any of them said. He was lost in his own world: well, it made sense, didn’t it? He was a ghost, and ghosts didn’t usually belong to the land of the living.

“So what brings you here, Wi- Ghostbur?” Phil stuttered. The ghost’s eyes widened a bit, a giggle escaping his lips.

“Oh! Of course, of course- silly me to have forgotten.” Techno let out a huff and went to the door, taking his cloak off the rack and pulling it over his shoulders in preparation of his hunt. “I’m here with news from L’Manburg.” He said. Phil stiffened, and Techno paused in his tracks. “They don’t like you very much there, Techno.” Ghostbur continued. “You know I heard they had a funeral for someone not too long ago- no one would tell me who it was for, but they told me that if I were to see you that you weren’t invited.” Tommy crossed his arms over his chest.

“I wouldn’t invite him either.” He muttered. There it was again: that bitterness. Phil wondered what made the mention of a funeral so personal to him- it’s not like he’d told his son that L’Manburg thought he was dead.

“Well anywho- wow, I get off track so easily, don’t I? I should work on that.” There was a low groan as the house settled, and all of the living residents waited to hear what the news was. “Dream has started reconstructing the walls again. You remember them, don’t you Tommy? The obsidian ones from when they sent you away?” Phil put an arm around Tommy’s shoulders, noticing immediately when he began to tremble.

“Of course I remember.” He whispered, eyes downcast. Ghostbur’s eyes widened, stepping towards his younger brother and reaching out a hand to comfort him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you upset-” Tommy waved him away, shaking his head and leaning further into his father’s side.

“I’m all good, no need to call the paramedics.” He joked.

“Well… they’re building up the walls again, and Tubbo is really upset about it. I heard him talking about how much he missed you, and I thought that maybe if I could find you it would make him happy again!” Ghostbur said. Phil and Techno shared yet another look, fear filling the older’s chest.

“Hey Ghostbur-” Techno started. “How would you feel about staying here, with us for a while?” He asked. Ghostbur’s smile widened impossibly more, his hands coming together in a sort of prayer move out of happiness.

“Really?” He asked, already forgetting the reason he was there in the first place. Phil nodded subtly to Techno: they both knew good and well that L’Manburg knowing about Tommy being alive would just paint a target on his back.

“Of course, bud. Someone has to help us around the farm- and you could help Toms get better on his new leg, too!” Phil exclaimed. He had to sell this- Ghostbur would go tell the world about not only Tommy, but also Techno and Phil’s alliance and where they were based. It was a risk they couldn’t take. Phil held Tommy tighter, his shaking slowly beginning to dissipate as he breathed steadily.

“Yeah, I need a good teacher. You’d do that for me, wouldn’t you?” Tommy added shakily. Ghostbur absolutely beamed.

“Oh I love when I get attention!” The ghost clapped his hands together joyfully. Phil let out an anxious breath- they were safe.

“Why don’t you join Techno on his hunt? Being alone probably isn’t good for him.” Tommy said, a mischievous smile on his face. For the first time in days, Techno looked directly at Tommy, only to throw him a withering glare.

“I’d love to!” Ghostbur exclaimed, hurrying to Techno’s side. With a grunt, the piglin hybrid hefted on the rest of his gear and checked carefully that his compass was attached to his hip, and his quiver was full of arrows.

“C’mon then. Losing daylight. If you make a single noise while I’m hunting, I’ll give you an afterlife that’s much more painful than what happened to those orphans.” He said, throwing open the front door to allow in the harsh light and cold. Ghostbur followed him out happily, taking light steps in the snow as to not cause any pain to himself.

“Be safe!” Phil called after them, and through the window watched them disappear into the woodline. He felt his wings droop a bit, heart heavy. 

It looked just like old times.

Tommy stepped out of his arms, taking his place once again on the couch, loaf of bread back in his hands.

“So…” Phil said, a smirk on his face. “Why don’t you tell me about that compass?” Tommy’s eyes went wide, as he began stumbling over his words, the most notable in the jumble being _‘Tubbo’_ and _‘Lava.’_ Phil raised an eyebrow when his son finally stopped to take a breath and collect himself. Big blue eyes eventually met his own, filled with curiosity.

“How do you know about that?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you enjoyed this chapter! It was a lot of fun to write, and it makes me really excited for future chapters! For more MCYT content and fic polls, follow me on twitter @azkaabanter. Maybe if I write enough I can open commissions and afford to get myself a working laptop, because at the moment my two key is barely working and it's a pain in the ass. ANYWAY, your bookmarks, kudos, and especially comments, mean the world to me. Anything you have to say will make me so happy, and I'd love to hear your opinions. I love you guys, and until the next update, bye!!

**Author's Note:**

> Wooooo I hope you enjoyed! For fic content, updates, polls, and other MCYT content, follow my twitter @Azkaabanter. I love y'all <3


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